The Scoundrel (Part 1)
by gubernaculum
Summary: An old face appears at Torchwood as an unwelcome visitor. (Eleventh installment of a series)
1. Chapter 1

Captain John Hart felt the familiar lurch in his stomach as he landed out of the vortex and into the middle of the Torchwood Hub. _Shit! Got the coordinates wrong!_ He thought with panic as he saw the lights were on and that he wasn't in the morgue. He'd wanted to kill two birds with one stone now he was in trouble…

"John!" His head whipped around at the name. A woman was running towards him. She was Asian but not the same woman he'd met the first time he came caught sight of Jack standing in her path, looking at him with astonishment. His former partner's eyes widened and he reached out, grabbing her as she passed him.

"NO! DON'T!" Jack shouted at her.

Hart took a few steps back, confused, wondering if Jack was protecting him from some sort of attack. Why he'd do that was completely beyond Hart as was why this woman was so desperate to reach him. Jack had to lift her off the ground gain a measure of control over her.

He continued to shout, "STOP! You can't! Look at him! He doesn't know who you are. It's not our version of him!"

"Let me go! Now, Jack!" she snarled.

_What passion…_ It made Hart look at her more seriously. The emotion behind that passion wasn't vengeance, anger or hatred. It was the opposite. Hart had only ever known love to fuel that level of determination. It wasn't all that he heard in her plea. Her voice dripped with a venom and a bite that interested him. The complexity wasn't the only thing that got his attention. Even though her face was twisted with raw emotion, she was quite pretty in an old fashioned human sort of way.

She renewed her struggles and Jack was having trouble holding onto her. He put her back on the ground, backhanding her across the mouth. The solid crack got her attention.

"Look at him!" he cried, shaking her.

She'd finally stopped struggling and turned with hesitation and dread.

No one had ever looked at him like that. There wasn't just love and lust. There was a purity to it. Flowing from the ocean of love was a river filled with loyalty and devotion. He never believed anyone would… could look at him that way. What astounded him the most was that her eyes hoped and begged for that look to be returned.

The heartbreak spread across her face, welling up tears in her eyes. "No…"

Jack drew her close as the tears spilled down her cheeks. "Ianto? Take her to my office."

The young man walked forward and opened his mouth as if to say something to him but closed it again. Hart saw none of the hatred and anger he'd seen the last time they'd met. The Welshman quietly took the woman by the arm.

"C'mon, Mandy…" he said softly.

Ianto started to lead her away but she turned and opened her mouth. With cat-like reflexes, the Welshman covered her mouth with his hand. With his other arm, he dragged her away. The tears continued, running down her cheeks and over Ianto's hand. Hart expected her to continue her struggle but halfway to Jack's office, she deflated, sorrow overwhelming her. Ianto dragged her into Jack's office, kicking the door shut with his foot.

_Such grief… over me?!_

Jack rounded on him, pointing a finger in his face. "You need to leave. Now!"

What Hart had just witnessed left him slightly stunned. He forgot everything the Time Agency and temporal mechanics had taught him and asked, "Who is she?"

Jack crossed his arms over his chest and said, "You know I can't tell you that. Leave. Now."

He had to know. He reached out and grabbed Jack's arm, dragging the other man towards him.

"Jaxon, who is she?" he demanded, dropping his voice to a whisper.

For a full minute, Jack didn't say anything. He just stood there with his chin tucked into his chest. Looking as if he was going to regret what he was about to do, he shook his head.

"A few months ago. 5 November, 2014." Jack grabbed his wrist, tapping those time coordinates into his vortex manipulator and then ordered, "Now, go."


	2. Chapter 2

It was very late. Torchwood's medic, Miranda Ryan, had just finished her last xenopsy. A Weevil had surfaced behaving erratically during the day. Usually, Torchwood captured any Weevils that surface and, after a short time-out in their cells, released them back into the sewers but they captured any daytime wanderer and humanely euthanised them. They'd learned the hard way how dangerous such Weevils became. The xenopsy was standard, to learn more about the behaviour. After placing the body in the refrigeration unit with an orange tag telling Ianto it was ready for disposal, Miranda returned to the autopsy bay. She'd just placed the instruments to soak and tossed her gloves into the bin when she heard a small noise. She closed her eyes, straining her ears over the normal sounds of the Hub. There it was again. A small click… shuffling feet…

_Of course, it's coming from the morgue, _she thought with a roll of her eyes. She opened the bottom drawer in the medical cabinet to retrieve her gun. She flicked the safety off and pulled on the slide quietly. She glanced over at her sword resting on the instrument tray and decided against it. The only presence she felt was Ianto, sleeping in the bunker below Jack's office. The chances of another immortal of the Game entering the Hub were slim to none. She toed off her shoes and padded down the stairs on bare feet to the Hub's morgue.

When she rounded the corner, she saw a man in a red jacket leaning over a cryodrawer. He was completely unaware of her. She could just shoot him. It would be an expedient solution. But he had the look of someone who knew precisely what he was looking for and precisely where to find it. It would be better to question such an individual. She pulled back the hammer on her gun, not bothering to conceal the noise. The distinctive sound echoed in the tiled room and had its intended effect, the man straightened up to face her.

Ruggedly handsome was her first impression from the high cheekbones and chiseled features. There was a slight curl to his brown hair. The gun in her hands didn't seem to concern him at all. In fact, his blue eyes danced with mischief, as if he was privy to some secret she wasn't. She lowered the gun a little, trying to appraise him. When he reached for the waistband of his jeans, it brought her back to reality and she raised the gun again.

"Don't. Fucking. Move," she said each word like a jab. "Keep your hands where I can see them. Step away from that cryodrawer, slowly."

The corner of his mouth curled upwards. The mischief deepened and the grin turned licentious. It was almost as if he recognised her. He was wearing a stained white t-shirt underneath a red Napoleonic jacket. _That isn't a reproduction._ Miranda's eyes flicked to the sword at his hip. _A kitana… also not a reproduction_. She hadn't felt a presence other than Ianto's but one immortal could mask the presence of another. It was then that she noticed the leather wrist strap. _Time agent!_ She had to warn Jack.

"Well, hello, hello," he said, sweetly.

She moved closer, keeping her gun pointed at him and flicked her eyes to the drawer's label. _Gray. He's after Gray._ She noted the blue indicator light was still on. The drawer's reversal sequence hadn't been initiated. Gray was still in proper cryostasis. "I said step away. Hands up! Now!"

Hart obeyed, moving a few steps away from the drawer. He raised his hands slightly. "Easy there, Dollface. You don't understand what's going on here. I'm an old friend of your Captain's."

She narrowed her eyes at him. _So this is the old Time Agency partner… Impeccable taste as always, Jack… _Miranda reached back into her memory for the name but Jack had never told her. She did know the current alias. "I'm well aware of what's going on here, Captain Hart. And don't call me Dollface."

If he was surprised she knew his name, he didn't show it. He gestured down at Gray's drawer and said, "I'm just cleaning up after your Captain."

She cast a quick glance up at the CCTV camera. Its light was off. _Of course, Hart's disabled it_. Miranda knew all about Jack's brother and his obsessive search. She knew all about Gray's revenge and Hart's involvement in the chain of events that had brought her back to Torchwood. She'd heard their stories. She'd dried Gwen, Ianto and Jack's tears. She'd read the reports. She'd watched the security footage. It was clear what had to be done. It was also clear that Jack would never do it. So, Miranda had done it herself. She'd sabotaged Gray's drawer a day of her return.

She made sure to add a slight chill to her tone and hollowed her voice so Hart didn't mishear her. She jerked her chin towards the drawer and said, "That? Has already been taken care of."

Curiosity lit in his eyes and he asked, "Who are you?"

"Doctor Miranda Ryan, the medic."

"Tad fuzzy on the whole 'do no harm' bit, eh?" he sneered. He glanced at the drawer. "How?"

Miranda said, icily, "Not your concern, Captain. Upstairs please. Slowly."

Now that she understood Hart's motives for entering the Hub, Miranda considered letting him go but only for a moment. She couldn't let him just waltz out of here. Not only would Jack would be furious if he found out but Hart was simply too dangerous. When he passed her, she pointed the gun at his back, following a short distance behind him. There was a tantalizing scent in the air - sandalwood, leather and cinnamon.

She pressed the comm in her ear, switching it to the channel for Jack's wrist strap. It would cause the strap to beep and hopefully wake either man asleep in the bunker. Ianto was a notoriously light sleeper. When they reached the autopsy bay, Miranda tapped the table and then moved her sword a respectable distance away. "Face me and put your hands on the table where I can see them please, Captain."

While he obeyed her command, she debated whether or not to frisk him for weapons but decided against it. Her comm unit beeped in her ear. Jack's voice came across sleepily. "Will? What's up?"

"Captain John Hart is here. I have him in the autopsy bay."

"I'll be right up." He sounded fully awake now.

The split second of distraction for her response was all it took. Hart propelled himself away from the autopsy table with his hands. He twisted around and grabbed for the gun. He seized her wrist and pinned her to the wall. She hadn't expected him to be able to move so fast. He caught her by surprise but she kept a firm hold on the gun. He banged her wrist against the wall several times in an unsuccessful attempt to disarm her. He switched tactics, keeping her pinned instead. Pressed so firmly into her, Miranda discovered the source of the intoxicating combination of sandalwood, leather and cinnamon. It was Hart. The smell sent blood rushing to her groin and made her dizzy. _Fifty fucking first century pheromones_… she cursed to herself.

Miranda recovered quickly from the off balance feeling Hart's scent had caused. She was trying to regain her advantage, something which would have been simple for her against the average human being or even a reasonably skilled immortal of the Game but with Hart, Miranda was unable to turn the tables on his grip. An advanced immortal of the Game like Miranda was fast and strong but not inhumanly so. She had all the strength, speed and agility of a top competing Olympic athlete… of the twenty first century. Miranda had been using Jack as a benchmark for the people of his time and she had no trouble defeating the immortal man. The assumption was proving to be an error. Hart was significantly stronger than her.

He shifted his grip on her wrist. His thumb moved up closer to her hand as the rest of his fingers shifted. Miranda knew enough about anatomy and hand to hand combat to know what was about to happen. Hart squeezed just so and the bone shifted, pressing into the nerve running through her arm. The pain was excruciating. She didn't cry out but her eyes watered. She held firm on the gun.

With no outward sign of pain, the curiosity in him deepened. He ceased his attempts to gain control of the weapon and stared at her. Her eyes burned at him with a fire that looked as ancient as it was hot. He would never gain control of the gun and she would never regain control of the situation. Their gazes locked and a silent battle of wills began. The sound of Jack cocking his Webley brought them both back to reality.

"Let her go, John. Now!" he ordered.

Hart lowered his voice so that only Miranda could hear him.

"What do you say, Dollface? Care to dance?" He squeezed the nerve in her wrist again.

The only sign of pain she showed was the smallest furrow to her brow. The honey coloured eyes blackened and crisped with rage. Hart had never encountered anyone like her. _Stoic fire… _

"I said, let her go," Jack repeated.

Miranda slacked in Hart's grip and he pulled back, thinking she had surrendered. She jerked her foot to the side, hard, unbalancing him. She yanked her arm downwards, finally turning the tables on his grip and flipping him. He face planted on the autopsy bay floor with Miranda seated on his thighs, his arm twisted around his back. "Touch me without my permission again and I will remove your liver with my bare hands."

To her annoyance, Hart began chuckling. "Permission isn't always verbal, Dollface."

"Don't…" she said simply, twisting his arm harder and eliciting a shout from him. She thought about breaking his wrist but decided against it. "…call me that."

"I like her, Jack," Hart said, his face pressed into the tiles slightly muffling his voice.

"What do you want?" Jack demanded.

"What? A bloke can't just stop in?"

"He asked you a question," Ianto snapped.

"Eye Candy!" Hart exclaimed.

Miranda was sorry that Hart's face was in the floor. He missed Ianto's spectacular eye roll.

"Answer him," she spat, yanking on his arm causing him to shout again.

"I came to say goodbye. I'm getting off this boring little rock."

"Let him up, Will," Jack said.

Unwilling to let this man think she was an easy target, she didn't move, keeping Hart pinned to the floor. She tugged a little on his arm for a third time. She slid her hand up his back, placing her fingers in just the right places along his neck. She felt the muscles tense as Hart recognised the grip… the grip that could snap his neck of she applied the right amount of pressure.

Jack said sternly, "Will, that's enough."

With a growl, she let go of Hart's arm and got to her feet.

"There, you've said goodbye. Now leave," Jack said as he turned to walk away.

"What? You used to be all about the long goodbye. I was thinking the three of us… well the four of us now…" he said as he got up off the floor and followed Jack out into the main Hub. "Oh, a Rickettsian tissue regenerator."

Ianto and Jack both stopped walking. Fish's worktable was littered with unidentifiable technology. The rift had been quiet lately and the technician had been working through the tech backlog.

"Wait, you know what that is?" Jack asked.

Hart nodded. "Rickettsian tissue regenerator, sixty sixth century technology. Watch…" He pulled a small blade from his belt, rolled up his sleeve and put a long, deep cut into his arm entire forearm, wincing. He picked up the alien device and aimed it at the fresh cut. "See you… oh… it's broken."

All three of them rolled their eyes at him. Jack leaned over, examining the cut closely. "Nice. That needs stitches."

"Just give me a minute…" While bleeding onto the Hub floor and the leg of his trousers, Hart began fiddling with the base of the device.

"Sometimes if they're dropped…" He picked at the bottom and it popped off. He reached two of his fingers into the device before any of them could stop him. Suddenly, it whirred and beeped and the light on the end came on.

"Ah-ha!" he said triumphantly, snapping the bottom back on. He pointed the regenerator at the cut on his arm. He slid his finger along a mark on the edge. Miranda watched in amazement as the cut started to seal itself, leaving a pink scar in its wake. She made a mental note to have Fish put this device on his list of priorities.

"See? Good as new… Oh… huh…" The regenerator stopped, leaving the wound half open. Frowning, he started fiddling with the device again. The movement caused the freshly healed end of the wound to split, bleeding again.

"John, stop. Let Will stitch that," Jack said, nodding towards the autopsy bay.

Miranda resisted the urge to crush Jack's windpipe. "There's a perfectly acceptable A&E-"

"Hang on, just give me a minute…" He held up his hand and then continued to pick at the end of the device, trying to pop the bottom off again.

Jack gave Miranda a stern look. He took on a tone of authority and ordered, "It will only take a few minutes, Will."

He turned and walked away with Ianto behind him. "I'll be in my office. Send him in after you're done."

Miranda took the device from his hands. Hart gave her a pout, like a child who'd lost a favourite toy. She seized Hart under his arm and dragged him into the autopsy bay. She shoved him at the table and started gathering her supplies.

"Sit down," she snapped. When she turned back to Hart, he was sitting on the autopsy table, shirtless and smirking.

"Like what you see?" he asked, leering.

Rolling her eyes, she poured antiseptic over the cut causing Hart to hiss. Without another word, she pushed the syringe into the bottle of anaesthetic.

"Don't bother," he said, dismissively.

She rolled her eyes again. She pulled his arm towards her and injected the medication around the wound. Nastily, she said, "Trust me, I'd rather not."

Without waiting for the medication to take effect, she put on a pair of gloves. She opened the packet of suture and began to stitch. "You didn't have to make such a large cut for a simple demonstration."

He shrugged one shoulder. "Didn't think I'd have it long, did I?"

He could feel every stitch. He couldn't believe that he'd bothered to come back here. There was no way this woman would ever care about him. She despised him! In fact, he was finding her quite unnerving too as each push of the needle pinched. The silence between them was intensely awkward. It might have something to do with Hart nearly breaking her wrist. Or it might have something to do with Miranda threatening his life. Either way, you could have curdled milk with the mood in the room. She was interesting, bordering on intriguing. He liked her pluck but she was impossible and fucking maddening.

Miranda put the last stitch into his arm and without warning, she backed away and buried a needle in his thigh, depressing the plunger. Hart yelled as the contents of the syringe burned and stung.

"YEOW!" he shouted, rubbing the spot furiously. Hart wanted to throttle that smug look off her face.

There was an impatient throat clear from the stairs and Ianto said, "Jack's in his office."

Hart winked at Miranda and said, "Captain Jack a-calls…." then bounded up the stairs and out of sight.

Ianto, not bothering to keep his voice down, shouted, "You need to talk to Jack, Mandy! Hart's dangerous! He poisoned Gwen! He pushed Jack off a building! He blew up half of Cardiff! Tosh and Owen are dead because of him!"

"I've read the reports," she said, calmly. Though Ianto was prone to emotionalism when it came to his husband, she had to agree with him. She'd recognised the look on Jack's face when that piece of tech had captured Hart's interest. He'd had the same exact look when he'd offered a job to Fish. Adding another technician to their team had been a top priority for her and Jack since Fish had reduced his field time.

Ianto continued, "I get that we need a tech for the alien artefacts and Fish is overwhelmed but… him?!"

Before Miranda could answer, Jack's voice bellowed, "Ianto! IANTO!" The immortal man appeared behind his husband. "John's in my office. Show him down to one of the guest rooms."

Miranda saw the slight slump to Ianto's shoulders at the request. The Welshman's mouth pressed into a thin line. She wondered if Jack would be sleeping on her sofa tonight. _Woefully obtuse_… "I've got it Jack."

Jack held up his hand and started counting off points on his fingers. "Don't believe anything he says. Always keep him in front of you and under no circumstances let him kiss you."

At that moment, Hart came around the corner. "Has he got to the no kissing rule yet?"

Miranda gave Ianto a little pat on the shoulder as she passed him. She pointed around towards the north staircase. "Keep in front, that way, the north stairs."

"Ooo, bossy, I like that. Whatever you say, Dollface."

"Don't call me Dollface."

Miranda led Hart down the stairs. At the end of the corridor she turned right, as if heading to her own rooms but she walked past them to the stairway at the end of the hall. They descended down a level towards what the team affectionately called 'the staterooms.' Occasionally, Torchwood played host and some of the old storage rooms had been converted into half a dozen spartan guest quarters. More often, the team used the rooms for a quick kip. Ianto kept them dusted and the sheets fresh, changing them monthly. She picked the one closest to the stairway. She ushered him in.

They were all the same, each resembling a typical hotel room. There was a small double bed in the middle of the room. Off to one side was a small table with a single wooden chair that could serve as an eating area or desk. The other side had a small round side table and upholstered chair for a small reading area. There was a simple wardrobe and dresser. Both were empty. A small bookcase had some very dated, yellowing novels various Torchwood operatives had added over the decades.

She opened the door and then shoved Hart inside. "Sleep well, Captain."

"I'd sleep better with some company, Dollface," he said, giving her a leer. She might be unnerving but he could… thrust… that aside for a little while.

_The utter gall…_ she thought with a roll of her eyes. She muttered under her breath in an ancient language.

"Oooh," he said, smirking. "Rather spread your thighs for gravedigger, eh?"

Without giving Hart the satisfaction of an answer, Miranda turned and walked away. She and Jack were having a serious chat tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

At an obscenely early hour, Ianto and Miranda were in the gym sparring. Miranda had ceased calling it training. To this day, she had no idea what had happened. Scarcely a few months after returning from his honeymoon, Ianto's sword skills had improved a thousand fold almost overnight, his style exuding that of the Highlander. Ianto had refused to talk about it, becoming curt and short tempered whenever she'd brought it up. Eventually, Jack had asked her to stop. So, she'd accepted the mystery for what it was and never spoke of it again.

Even with his new miraculous skills, Ianto couldn't defeat Miranda but he could hold his own against her for a good length of time. This morning was a different story. Ianto was spending most of this sparring session flat on his back. It wasn't entirely Ianto's fault. Yes, the young immortal was angry, frustrated and tired but Miranda was putting more force and agility behind her blows. Since Ianto's formal training was over, she usually fought with enough skill to keep him sharp and to push his boundaries a bit. Today, she wasn't holding back. In fact, she should be praising him for holding his ground so well.

Hart had them both on edge and they were taking it out on each other with Miranda being more successful. She'd been up half the night, tossing and turning, unable to get Hart out of her mind. She was trying to work out exactly how to get rid of him or figure out what she could possibly say to Jack to get him to see reason. They shouldn't trust Hart and someone they didn't trust had no place within the team. It wasn't just what she knew about his previous encounters with Torchwood. She also knew a great deal about Hart from Jack and little of it was good. In fact, now that she'd met the man she wondered what Jack had ever seen in him. Then again, their relationship was also from a time when Jack was a different man himself.

As if his ears had been burning, Jack walked through the gym door just as Miranda sent Ianto sprawling to the mats again. She waited until Ianto had caught his breath a little before tapping his leg with her sword. He got to his feet with a grunt and a wince.

Jack leaned against the far wall. If Ianto were still in training, Miranda wouldn't have permitted Jack to observe. Because of Ianto's improved skill and single quickening, Miranda considered Ianto's training over even though she'd scarcely trained the Welshman a year. She normally trained her students for nearly a decade, sometimes more. She allowed Jack to watch on occasion to highlight the fact that Ianto's immortality was different than his. Even though she allowed it, she didn't like it. These sparring sessions never went as smoothly with Jack watching. Miranda suspected the Welshman was unknowingly trying to show off for his lover.

"Again, Ifan," she said.

He gave a wordless nod and moved to stand opposite her. They stood facing each other but this time Miranda waited for Ianto to attack. He swung the sword behind him to gain momentum. _Showy…_ This time fatigue was clear in the two handed swing. She dodged him easily. The next swing from him came laterally but, again, he used both hands. _We're done here._ He tried again, another two-handed swing from the other direction. She parried the blow easily then leaned in towards the younger immortal, landing a firm right cross to his jaw, sending him sprawling. Ianto was making old errors she hadn't seen him make in weeks; certainly not since his mysterious leap frog in skill.

With Ianto's training so incomplete and with so much for him still to learn, Miranda had feared for his life. For a few weeks, Duncan MacLeod had remained in Cardiff to supplement the Welshman's training. Even though Ianto was a fledgling immortal, he'd succeeded in taking the head of Carl Brogen through underhanded means. Immortals in training were generally given a grace period to learn in relative safety but the immortal community commonly accepted the taking of a head as a sign training was complete. With the death of Carl Brogen, Ianto's head was now fair game. The title of student no longer protected him. When Ianto's skills had improved, it was mysterious, yes, but Miranda had been relieved and Duncan had returned to Paris. Ianto had made a gigantic leap forward. Miranda hated to see this gigantic slide backwards. The carelessness irritated her further.

"You have two hands, you need only swing with one!" she barked.

"It's heavy," he said between gasps.

"Grow stronger!" she barked.

Jack's voice drifted from the doorway, "Ease up on him, Will."

Miranda resisted the urge to crush his windpipe… again. "Ifan, go get cleaned up. Jack, a private word?"

Once Ianto had collected his things and limped towards the locker room, she turned to Jack, her eyes flashing with anger. Ianto's training may be complete but he was still learning the culture of the Game. Ianto would forever be known as her student. Miranda was still solidifying the sacred bond between student and teacher. It was a relationship built over time that created lasting respect and profound kinship. She couldn't let Jack undermine her authority with Ianto. Jack was right in his own way. Ianto was working hard but she still had to stand her ground. This was her territory, not his. She pushed the point of her sword against Jack's chest for emphasis.

"I may not have said so before but I'm saying it now. Upstairs you're the captain, but in here with Ianto,_ my word is law_."

Jack held up his hands in mock surrender. He seemed to understand he shouldn't exercise the more flippant aspects of his personality. When Miranda didn't say anything further, he bristled, puffed out his chin and came to his husband's defence. "He's working hard."

She didn't lower her weapon. There were only two likely effects Hart's appearance would've on Jack and Ianto's relationship. Either way, it would be explosive. This morning she'd learned precisely what sort of explosive. She'd smelled the sex and Jack on Ianto the minute he'd walked through the gym door. Ianto had spent the night marking his territory. She wasn't sure which outcome she would've preferred.

"He needs to concentrate. He can't do that if he's up all night buggering you," she snapped. "As of now, you're banned from these sparring sessions. If you ever undermined my authority in front of Ifan again, I will open your belly and use your entrails as Christmas decorations."

"Don't you think you're over-"

"No, Jack, I don't think I'm over reacting!" She backed away a little, lowering her sword. She didn't want to bring up his interference in Carl Brogen's death. She didn't want to bring up how Ianto had falsely earned a reputation for himself nor how she'd already intercepted a few challenges and expected more. "The world is shrinking. The Game is more dangerous than ever. I'm trying to keep him alive."

She didn't give Jack a chance to answer, she walked out of the gym towards the locker room. She needed to clear her head. She needed to have a more serious discussion with Jack later and that discussion would be harder if she said something now she'd have to apologise for. After stripping, she found Ianto standing under the hot spray, letting the water ease his aching muscles. The palms of both his hands were planted against the tiled wall, his head bowed. The hot spray was sending the water cascading down his back and across his shoulders. The bruises Miranda had given him were already yellowing and fading. They would be gone by the time he was dressed. He was staring at the ones on his arms.

It may have been a long time ago but Miranda remembered the fascination she'd had with her healing abilities at first. That fascination didn't fade for many, many years. It was probably still a miracle to him, watching small nicks and cuts seal themselves and bruises fade before his eyes. Miranda watched as he flexed his hands against the tile, the muscles of his now bulkier forearms shifting under tight skin. His shoulders were broader, his arms and legs thicker. The training regime was driving away his baby fat and replacing it with lean cords of muscle. Miranda allowed herself to admire his body from afar for a few moments. He didn't look up at the sound of her bare feet against tile floor nor the scrape of steel against the tile as she leaned her sword against the wall. She turned on the shower next to him.

Miranda cleared her throat before she said, "I'm sorry about before. I've been pushing you too hard."

"I know how serious all this is, Mandy," he said softly. He was still so ashamed about what had happened with Carl Brogen. When Jack had thrown him his sword, he'd acted on instinct alone. He'd wanted to live. He'd done what he'd needed to do to survive. Now, Miranda was bearing the brunt of that. Jack may not be aware that Miranda had intercepted challenges on Ianto's behalf but, then again, Jack didn't have a Watcher whispering in his ear. Ianto's Watcher, Shawn Graham, kept him well appraised of every single challenge Miranda deflected.

"There was never a doubt," she said, "but you deserve a break. No more training sessions for the next week."

He nodded. He'd done everything he could to get ahead of Miranda, to accept the challenges she was intercepting before she had a chance, but her sources of information were too good. Instead, he threw himself into his training, trying to convince her that he stand alone. Though his mind was skilled, his body wasn't. Ianto had been working hard to bring his body to the point it had been at when the pocket universe had collapsed. It was frustrating for him that many moves and countermoves he'd mastered weren't possible now. He was pushing his body to its limits and burning himself out.

Miranda noted that the last time she'd given him a few days off, he'd argued. _He must be exhausted. I should've seen it._ She rinsed the last of the soap from her body and shut off the water.

"And Ifan…" she waited for him to turn to her before continuing. "Good work. I'm very proud of you."

She shook more water out of her hair when she got back to the locker room. She laid her sword on the wooden bench and reached for a towel.

"Mm, mm, mmm…" came Hart's leer from the doorway.

Miranda rolled her eyes but made no move to cover herself. It seemed pointless as Hart had already gotten an eyeful.

"Opps. Sorry, Dollface. Is this the ladies?" he asked, stepping into the room.

"There is no such distinction at Torchwood, Captain… and stop calling me that," she said, running the towel over her hair. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Oh, so much…" he let his eyes wander lustfully over her nude body.

"What are you doing down here, Hart?" Ianto asked as he came out of the shower area. He hastily wrapped the towel in his hand around his waist.

"Eye Candy! Have you been working out?"

Ianto rolled his eyes. He pointedly glared at the door. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all, in fact, I'm looking forward to it." His lustful attentions were now firmly focused on the young Welshman.

"I'm not staying here for him to leer at me," Ianto muttered under his breath so only she could hear him. He collected his things and left the room, checking Hart with his shoulder as he left, knocking the Captain off balance.

"Ah, twenty first century modesty… how quaint…" Hart snickered at Ianto's retreating back and then turned his eyes back to Miranda. "You seem to have no such reserve."

"And, all evidence to the contrary, Captain, you appear to be an adult. I'm quite certain I'm not the first naked woman you've ever seen." She collected her sword and soiled clothes. As she left, she gave Hart the same shoulder check that Ianto did, hers knocking the Captain off balance as well. "I'll see you up in the autopsy bay in twenty minutes for a complete physical."

She'd go through the motions but it was time for that chat with Jack.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack knew a difficult conversation was to be had between him and his second in command. He decided to start it on his own terms.

"Will! My office!" he shouted across the Hub floor when he saw Miranda coming up the north stairs. After he'd sat back down at his desk, there was a polite knock. The door opened and Miranda poked her head in.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked, not moving into the office.

The nuances of her hesitance weren't lost on him. The deference to his authority felt like a small slap in the face after his disrespect of hers. He wondered if it was on purpose. _Probably_… he thought, rolling his eyes internally. He wondered if these sorts of immature games between them would ever end. _Probably not… _

"Come on in, Will. Have a seat." He waited for her to take the chair opposite his desk.

Joseph Fischer was an excellent chemist and had exceptional computer skills but he struggled with the alien technology. Jack had asked Hart to examine the other devices on Fish's work table. Tosh would have figured out most, if not all, of the devices on there in a matter of days. Fish also would have figured out most, if not all, of the devices but in a matter of weeks. Being a time traveller from the future, Hart had identified more than half of them in the span of a few minutes.

Despite the fact that Hart had attacked his medic, Jack had known the minute he'd seen his former partner that something had changed about the man. When Hart had thrown him off the roof all those years ago, Jack hadn't missed the blown pupils and the slight twitching to his hands and the corners of his mouth. Hart had been loaded on something. Jack hadn't been surprised. Hart had spent most of his time loaded up on one thing or another. Jack knew all about Hart's background and upbringing and understood where the man's hedonism was coming from but it was extreme even for their own time. He'd been surprised that Hart had appeared sober during their next encounter, when he and Gray had blown up half the city and Tosh and Owen were taken from them. So lost in his own grief and guilt, Jack certainly hadn't stopped to wonder the impact of the day's events on Hart. When Miranda had caught him in the autopsy bay, Jack was, again, surprised at how lucid the man was. Maybe Captain John Hart had shed some of his vices and grown up a little?

"John's going to be with us for a one month trial period. Is that going to be a problem?"

If she flew off the handle and yelled or shouted, Jack would just dig in his heels and not budge. At least he'd had the sense to not make it the usual three to six months. If she could convince him properly… "Do you think that wise?"

"We've been talking about adding another team member for years," he said, not looking up from the papers in front of him. "His focus at the academy was historical technologies."

"I understand that Captain Hart has unique qualifications, Jack, but do you really think that he will fit into our team environment? _Any_ team environment?" she said, waving at the main Hub. "You said yourself that he spent more time under review at the Agency than most."

"The Time Agency attracts a certain personality type, Will," Jack said, defensive.

"Wonton brutality… disobeying or all out ignoring orders and procedure… rebellion against authority…" Miranda said, ticking off points on her fingers. "And those are the professional concerns. Need I continue on to what you've told me about him on a personal level? His hedonistic tendencies involving drugs, alcohol and the carnal… his disloyalty… his cowardice…"

Jack scrubbed at his face and then let his arms fall to the desk with a double thud. "Sometimes people just need a chance."

"Hasn't Captain Hart used up those chances?" she asked, glaring a bit.

"I'm not ready to give up on him."

Miranda hadn't expected it to be this difficult. She certainly hoped Jack had not been foolish enough to give that reason to Ianto.

"I've talked to Ianto and I've warned Gwen. She'll be in tomorrow."

The backlash from Gwen had been considerable. Jack's ears were still ringing. Ianto? Well… The fact that there had been backlash from Ianto was expected. What was unexpected was how it had happened.

Once the two of them had retreated back in the bunker last night, Ianto had attacked Jack with an animalistic fervor. Miranda had only been half right. Ianto had been up half the night but only part of it had been spent buggering Jack. Once he'd finished pounding Jack into their mattress, Ianto had, in an even and cool tone, asked him what the fuck he was thinking. The deep hurt and disappointment was evident in his husband's voice. What had made the whole thing worse was the fact that Ianto hadn't shouted nor yelled, not once. He'd explained to Jack precisely how he felt and presented his argument. He'd listened to Jack do the same. And then they'd politely agreed to disagree.

This wasn't like their usual arguments or domestics. Everything was the same between them. They'd fallen asleep, tightly spooned together. After Ianto had finished sparring with Miranda, they'd eaten a light breakfast sitting next to each other on the sofa in his office. It had all been just as it been ad every night and morning previously. But, now, there was a crack between them that extended right into Jack's heart. The worst part was that every reason Jack had given Ianto, Miranda and Gwen was absolutely and utterly full of crap.

Shortly after the Time Agency had taken two years of his memories and he'd started running cons, something strange had happened to him. He'd ended up on some strange planet in some strange century. Jack hadn't really remembered when or where he'd been but it had been well before he'd run into Rose and The Doctor. He'd seen Hart stumbling through the streets at a distance with a woman with teal coloured hair. He'd laughed and had been about to shout to gain Hart's attention but someone from behind him had said… _He'll come back to you repentant. Shelter him. Don't turn him away…_ Before Jack had been able to turn round, the person had gone.

Living for centuries, the memory tended to get fuzzy. There were plenty of things he'd seen and done, or said and heard that he never remembered. This particular moment hadn't bubbled up in his mind until last night. It was the look on Hart's face when he'd told Jack he'd come to say good bye that had done it. Time was like a vast ocean full of eddies and currents. A time traveller learned not to fight the ocean but to ride it. There may be some reason that memory chose to arise in his mind at that particular moment. Jack had gotten a feeling deep in his gut and he'd learned not to ignore such feelings. So Jack had gone with it, offering Hart the job after he'd recognised the piece of tech. He'd been a little taken aback when Hart accepted the job offer. Jack had expected Hart to simply laugh at him or make some rude comment about how boring it would be. At the very least, he'd expected some flippant remark about how Jack was just trying to keep him around. But Hart had simply accepted and gone to work. To Jack, that had been more proof the course of action had been the correct one. The consequences were proving profound, but if his suspicions were correct, then he was maintaining the timeline and that was more important than, well, pretty much anything.

It also meant that he couldn't tell anyone the truth. And that made him feel so alone especially now that nearly everyone, including his own husband, was against him.

"I need you to keep an eye on him," he told her, flatly.

She shifted in her seat. She narrowed her eyes and repeated his order as a question in a stony voice. "Keep an eye on him?"

He nodded. "He's sober. Make sure he stays that way when he's on the clock."

"I'm not a fucking sobriety coach, Jack!" she exclaimed, rising to her feet and slamming her hands down on the desk.

Jack kept a level head. He stood up slowly, and sternly said, "The last time he was tanked out, he threw me off a building, shot Owen, held Ianto at gunpoint, poisoned Gwen and then took her hostage. Watch him. That's an order."

"Jack, I don't think…" she broke off when she saw the look he was giving her. There really was going to be no budging him on this. At all. _It's only for a month… _She took a slow breath in and rolled her shoulders as she slowly exhaled. She managed to step away from Jack without ripping his throat out. As she walked towards his office door, she said, stoically, "He's coming up in a few minutes for his physical."

"Discretion please."

Miranda didn't answer him. After she stepped through the office door, she slammed it behind her. The loud bang wasn't as satisfying as she thought it would be. When she got to the autopsy bay, Hart was waiting for her. She dug around in the supply cupboard for a gown and handed it to him. "Put this on please."

"Not necessary," he said. Ignoring the gown, he began to strip.

"I would prefer it."

He caught the deadly air to her voice. He took the gown from her and continued to strip. Like Jack and herself, he seemed to display no shame at nudity but Miranda remained politely turned away until she felt him tug on her sleeve. Miranda employed Ianto's trick of donning a mask of professionalism in a feeble attempt to hide her displeasure.

"Have a seat on the table, please, Captain. You should be more careful with this," she said. She picked up his red Napoleonic jacket from where he'd draped it over the table. She hung it on the coat stand. Mechanically, she said, "Jack asked me for discretion regarding your personal information but I'd like an approximate age, if you don't mind."

The former Time Agent surprised her, instead of protesting he seemed to be calculating in his head. "Forty five, give or take."

"Like Jack, you're mostly human?" she asked.

"Human enough to check that box on a form," he said with a shrug.

"I'm also going to assume there aren't any medical problems?"

"Healthy as a horse as you people say," he said with a one shouldered shrug. He brushed the side of his hand over the gown, rolling his eyes a bit at it.

She picked up the rubber tourniquet from the tray. "Your arm, please, Captain?"

Hart held out his right arm to her without a word. His skin was hot and smooth as she tied the tourniquet around his arm. "This will pinch a bit."

She pushed the needle into the bulging vein. The tubes felt unnaturally hot as they filled. Her professional curiosity pushed aside her annoyance.

"What's your normal body temperature?" she asked with an air of concern, wondering if the former Time Agent was ill.

He looked to be calculating in his head again. "Thirty… eight? In whatever one of those antiquated measurements this century uses."

Both her eyebrows shot up. Twenty first century human normal was only thirty seven degrees Celsius. That single degree was significant and considered a fever in this century. Again, professional curiosity got the better of her since Jack's normal body temperature was thirty seven. "Is that common in your time?"

There was another shrug. "No idea, sorry. Could be because of the Ruborian I've got in my family… Three? Four generations back? Lots of different people by the fifty first, Dollface."

"Stop calling me that, Captain," she said, automatically. She finished drawing the blood, wondering what the machines would make of him. Her initial exam was already picking up a profoundly low heart rate and blood pressure, but since Hart was still standing and alert, she assumed it was normal for him.

"Lie back, please."

She ran the Bekaran scanner down Hart's body, a few anatomic anomalies catching her eye. His lungs were smaller than a twenty first century human's but they were more efficient. His heart was also big enough that a doctor of this century would consider it enlarged but it seemed to be functioning properly. The morphology of the Captain's spleen was also markedly different than that of a twenty first century human and there were also more blood vessels throughout his liver. Otherwise, the fifty first century man was no different from any other human of this era. Oddly enough, the former Time Agent was more anatomically different from Jack than he was from her, a human being nearly eight thousand years removed from him.

"You can get dressed, Captain," she said, turning around. "I would tell you you're perfectly healthy but I have no idea if what I'm looking at is abnormal for you or not. I also have no idea what the machines will make of this." She held up the vials of his blood.

She walked over to the side table, putting the tubes into the centrifuge to spin. She could hear the sounds of Hart getting dressed. Once the blood was spinning, she turned around. He had the gown balled up in his hands, looking about for where he should dispose of it. Miranda took it from him and put it into the laundry bin. He cleared his throat. Miranda swore the sound was almost nervous.

"Listen, Dollface… about last night… It was nothing personal. Business, you understand," he said, quietly.

Miranda turned, glancing upwards towards the camera and then the main Hub. "Our little secret, Captain."

Without another word she turned, rearranging the items on the table. Hart took it as a dismissal and left the autopsy bay. He climbed the stairs and turned into the Main Hub. He saw Ianto handing a mug of coffee to another man. _Oh, a blonde…_

"Trouble?" Fish asked. He nodded towards the red jacketed figure. Jack had called him into his office the moment he'd arrived to explain the new team member. The whole situation was unorthodox to Fish but then again everything had been unorthodox since he'd joined Torchwood.

"Captain Hart can be… abrasive," was Ianto's diplomatic but gritty answer. Fish didn't miss how the Welshman squared his shoulders, almost bracing himself, as Hart approached.

"Morning, Eye Candy! All suited up I see," Hart said with a leer. "And I see you lot finally got yourselves that blonde. Nice one too."

Fish raised his eyes at the… compliment? A little too stunned to form his own reply.

"Captain John Hart, Doctor Joseph Fischer," Ianto said smoothly, butler persona in full force. "Can I get you anything, Captain?"

"Oh, so many requests so little time…" When Ianto rolled his eyes, he added, "Just some water, thanks, Eye Candy."

"There is fresh coffee," Ianto said, "and I do have a name, you know."

"But you're such a beautiful piece of eye candy in that suit… The body's a temple. I don't know how you lot survived, all that processed junk you eat," Hart said with a look of mild disgust.

Ianto rolled his eyes, yet again. According to Jack, his former partner inhaled, ingested, imbibed or injected all manner of illicit substances far more dangerous than coffee or processed food.

"You've obviously never seen Jack eat," and then he left to fetch a glass of water.

"Some of us aren't immortal, Eye Candy!" the former Time Agent called after him.

"Joe Fischer. Everyone here calls me Fish even though I can't get them to stop," the Australian said, holding out his hand. "Good to meet you, Captain."

"Oh, the pleasure's all mine…" Hart said with a smile and a leer.

Fish finally understood what women meant when they said 'elevator eyes'. Hart was clearly checking him out. He'd been checked out before by women and men but never quite like this. He could feel every piece of his clothing falling to the floor as Hart undressed him with his eyes. He shifted nervously in his chair under the scrutiny and felt a blush creeping up his neck. He cleared his throat and steeled himself. He had a feeling, like a dog, this man could smell fear and hone in on it. "Umm, Jack said you're here to help analyse the alien tech?"

"Yep, unless you have something more interesting for me?" Hart said with another leer.

"Not interested in what you're peddling, Captain," Fish said with an eye roll. _God, he's worse than Jack!_

Hart raised his hands up in surrender. "Right, sorry, twentieth-first century and insecure sexualities, I get it."

"I'm quite secure in my sexuality, Captain," Fish said hotly. "Twenty-first century lesson number one - the polite brush off. I'm taken."

"Well, it's good to move out of your comfort zone," Hart said as he stepped into Fish's personal space.

"Twenty-first century lesson number two - the impolite brush off. Sod off and get stuffed," Fish said, leaning forward aggressively into Hart's face. Fish stood his ground, tolerating the other man's proximity in a strange sort of dick measuring contest. _This is a bit homoerotic…_

"Good to meet you, Joe," Hart said, brightly with a wink.

Ianto cleared his throat, a glass of water on his silver tray.

"Thanks, Eye Candy," Hart said as he took the glass and drank deeply. "Joe? What do you say you and I talk some tech?"

Hart rolled Gwen's desk chair over to Fish's work table and sat down, examining the items of tech that Fish had spread across it. Fish snagged the hot mug off of his workstation and went to join the other man but Ianto caught him by the arm.

"How did you do that?" Ianto asked under his breath.

"Do what, mate?" Fish asked.

"Get him to call you by name?"

"Search me! I was hoping you'd tell me so I can try it on you lot!" Fish said with a chuckle. He plopped down next to Hart and the two men started to enthusiastically work.


	5. Chapter 5

After two weeks, Fish had to admit that he was starting to feel sorry for Captain Hart. At first, the former Time Agent had made an attempt to fit in, extending several unsuccessful olive branches to Ianto and Gwen. He'd stopped flirting with Jack and had even tried referring to Ianto by name. He had left Gwen a small box of chocolates that the former PC had chucked into the bin not seconds after she'd discovered them. Each attempt had been met with scorn, and now the fifty first century man had stopped trying.

Every morning when Fish came in, Hart was already at their work table, sifting through the tech backlog. The two men worked together, efficiently and professionally. Fish was learning a lot from Hart and his own work with the alien tech was improving in leaps and bounds. At the end of the day, Hart either went out to sample Cardiff's nightlife or returned down the north stairs to his spartan room. The former Time Agent had started trying to remain as invisible as possible and was the team pariah. Fish knew what that was like which is why he found himself standing outside John Hart's door this evening. He raised his hand, knocked and waited. After a minute, the door opened to reveal the former Time Agent. His hair was uncombed and he was shirtless. His trousers were unfastened and Fish could smell the distinctive scent of marijuana smoke wafting towards him. With a smile he said, "Evening, John."

"Joe," Hart said, giving him a curious look. "I thought you wanted that analysis tomorrow."

For some reason that Fish couldn't comprehend, Hart acted as if he worked for rather than with him. "For the last time, John, you don't work for me. This is a social call actually."

Hart looked surprised but opened up his door and let Fish in. Fish had slept in the staterooms before but Hart had a made a few small changes to the room. The linens and mattress were of a higher quality and there was a large mirror on the side wall. He'd also added a small refrigerator and hotplate. For some reason none of them could understand, Hart had an aversion to processed food. Fish found it to be almost an oxymoron given the amount of illicit substances that were probably in the former Time Agent's bloodstream right now. He sat down at the small table and gestured at the pipe. "May I?"

"Help yourself," Hart said with a smile.

Fish smiled as he picked the metal pipe up, checking that there was still something left in it. It was a small amount, barely worth bothering with but Fish hadn't smoked since he was in university and knew it would hit him hard. He lit the pipe and inhaled deeply, holding his breath for a few seconds before he exhaled and coughed.

"Woah, easy there!" Hart said, thumping Fish on the back and handing him a bottle of water.

"Haven't done this stuff in years," Fish said with a laugh, feeling the high hit him immediately. Hart had purchased quality. He smiled enjoying the relaxed and slightly giddy feeling that swept through him. Maybe he should take up the recreation again. Henry would probably disapprove.

"More where that came from," Hart said as he lifted up a box from the small bookcase. "There are a few other poisons. What's your pleasure, Joe?"

"Nah, I'm good mate. Came to see if you wanted to go out tonight for some drinks? I could be your wingman."

"My what?" Hart asked, thoroughly confused.

"Wingman. It's the pilot of a plane that flies to the side of another in formation usually in a dangerous situation for support. It has come to colloquially mean a friend, usually male, who will go out to bars and clubs and help you find a partner for sex," Fish said. He'd gotten used to explaining twentieth and twenty first century slang to the fifty first century time traveller. The flat explanations of colourful expressions were one of the best things Fish liked about his growing friendship with the man. He enjoyed watching Hart's expression change from utter confusion to complete comprehension.

Hart nodded. "Ah."

"It'll be fun, I haven't been out to the bar scene in years. There are some clubs up by the city centre, gay and straight," Fish said with a smile. "Let's see if we can get you lucky."

Hart's gaze turned lecherous. "We don't have to go out for that, Joe."

Without another word, Hart sank to his knees in front of Fish and started tugging at the other man's belt. The drugs still fogging his brain and the swiftness of the other man caught Fish so off guard that Hart managed to undo his jeans and had his hand inside them before Fish knew what was happening. Before he could stop him, Hart's mouth was on him and Fish's body was reacting of its own accord. It took him a few seconds to come to his senses but he grabbed Hart's head and lifted it off of him, his now hard cock coming free from Hart's mouth with a lewd pop.

"John, stop!" Fish cried.

Hart looked up at Fish with a confused look.

"I didn't come down here for sex. I meant what I said, I'm taken," Fish said. _Christ, it's going to be fun explaining this to Henry…_

Hart smirked. He stuck out his tongue and gently teased the tip of Fish's cock. "I told you to broaden your horizons… step outside your comfort zone…"

Fish gasped and started to look fearful, his voice shook a little. "Stop, John."

Hart slid the elastic band of Fish's briefs back up over his erection. "You know, I'm not that sort of scoundrel, Joe. I do want my lovers to want me."

"That's not what I was thinking at all, mate," he said. He hadn't thought for a second that Hart would force him into anything. He suddenly realised that Hart may not understand the meaning of the phrase he was using. "I'm taken. It means I'm in a monogamous relationship."

Hart's eyes went wide. He stood up and backed away from Fish as if the man had some communicable disease. "Shit! I'm sorry, Joe! I'm rubbish with this century!"

"It's fine, John," Fish said, seeing the genuine remorse in Hart's face. He stood up and refastened his trousers and belt.

"Tell your partner I'm fucking sorry," Hart said, hanging his head.

"I said it's fine," Fish repeated. "I'm not looking forward to explaining this to Henry but he'll understand. Just a miscommunication. Translation problems."

Hart still looked so upset. He was hanging his head, shaking it.

"Hey, what's the matter?" Fish asked, concerned.

"Where I'm from, it's seriously fucking inappropriate to step between committed partners," Hart said.

"No offense, mate, but you've been throwing yourself at Jack and Ianto since you got here," Fish said with a bit of a laugh.

Hart shook his head. "That's all talk, Joe. Just flirting. I offered, they said no, end of story. I do have some scruples even though you lot don't think I do."

Fish had quickly learned that John Hart was a great deal of talk. The man was a compulsive liar, given to bragging and acting the proverbial peacock. Captain Hart may not know it but Fish, a fair poker player, had learned the man's tell early on. He pursed his lips slightly right before he lied. Fish laid a hand on Hart's arm. "Really, it's fine, John. You didn't understand what I'd said. You didn't know. Listen, the night is young, and there's all of Cardiff before us."

Hart gave him a weak smile. "I think I'd like that. Let me get changed."

"I'll be upstairs," Fish said. He left the room to give the man privacy that he was sure Hart didn't require. He went back up to the main floor of the Hub to wait for Hart. He thought the Hub would be deserted but Ianto was standing at one of the workstations in a pair of pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt. Fish always thought it strange to see the Welshman in anything other than a suit. Even when Ianto was dressed down, for some odd reason, Fish still felt like he was wearing one. _Must be the way he's carrying himself… _

"Fish? You're still here?" Ianto said craning his neck.

"Yeah, mate, I knocked off a while ago, was just changing," Fish said. He looked a bit concerned at the screen. "Something wrong? There a spike somewhere?"

"No, just printing out some reports for Mandy that I didn't get a chance to print out earlier," Ianto said. "She's got that thing with UNIT week after next."

Ianto took in the black jeans and black button down shirt that Fish was wearing with interest. Fish's long blonde hair was slicked back with gel. Fish was dressed for a night out and looked quite handsome. Ianto smirked. Henry wouldn't know what had hit him.

"Date night with Henry?" he asked, quirking his eyebrow and smiling at his friend.

"Erm, no," Fish said.

Just then, Hart bounded up the north stairs. "All set, Joe? Evening, Eye Candy."

Ianto's friendly smile turned to a look of alarm as he took in Hart's appearance. The former Time Agent was wearing tight fitting black leather trousers and a navy blue silk button down shirt. The shirt was half unbuttoned and the sleeves were rolled up past Hart's elbows. The trousers looked as if they were practically a second skin. The man looked positively predatory.

"Yeah, John, my car's this way," Fish said.

"Fish? Wait up a minute," Ianto said, startled.

After Hart disappeared towards the Hub garage, Ianto walked over to Fish, concern etched on his face. "Fish, what are you doing? Why are you getting yourself mixed up with John Hart?"

"It's not what you think, mate. We're just going out for a few friendly drinks," Fish said, a little more than annoyed Ianto thought he was cheating on Henry.

Ianto warned, " Are you mad or just daft? A few drinks and you could end up in a bad situation! Hart's dangerous. He could slip you something! He could-"

"When I was a kid, this mutt followed me home," he shouted, interrupting Ianto's tirade. "I begged my parents to let me keep him. He was half starved and they didn't want a dog like that in the house because he could turn on us at any minute so we took him to the shelter. They said it was up to us but all that poor dog wanted was for someone to give him a chance. That dog nearly ripped a night burglar's arm off protecting me and my little sister."

Ianto went to open his mouth to argue but Fish interrupted him. The only other time Ianto had seen Fish this angry was when he had first showed up at the Tourist Office after he'd accidentally stumbled upon Miranda's immortality.

"Jack avoids him because he's too fucking afraid to piss you off and then there's you with your butler and your stiff upper lip. Gwen won't even look at him let alone say a fucking word to him. I get that you three have this prejudice when it comes to John and I know that prejudice has merit but he's done nothing since he got here but try to bury the hatchet and aside from Jack offering him a job, the _only_ thing you three have done is throw mud in his eye," Fish said, hotly. "You lot may have your reasons for hating him, but I don't. So I'm going to go have a few drinks with the man."

Without giving Ianto a chance to reply, Fish turned on his heel and stormed out away.


	6. Chapter 6

Fish took Hart up to a gay club by the city centre. After shaking off his angry encounter with Ianto with a few drinks, he'd smiled and laughed and tried his best to enjoy himself. He'd invited Henry to join them but Henry had declined the invitation. Fish had felt badly about taking a night away from them but Henry had insisted he go out and enjoy himself. Nightclubs really weren't Fish's thing and he wasn't much of a dancer but Hart wasn't to be dissuaded. He'd dragged Fish onto the dance floor and the two had ended up having a great time. Eventually, Hart had managed to charm someone. Actually, it was more appropriate to say that he'd managed to chose amongst the many men he'd charmed. Fish chuckled as the two of them had stumbled off into the gents together. Shaking his head, his mobile rang. It was a text message from Miranda about a large rift spike.

With a groan, Fish started to move through the crowd towards the toilets, grateful that the few drinks he'd had were already working their way out of his system. He kept his eyes firmly on his shoes as he walked into the gents. He leaned over, searching for the correct pair of boots. When he found the stall with those boots, there was another pair with them. Fish smiled and shook his head, blushing a bit. Miranda had given them fifteen minutes. He could allow them to finish whatever was going on within reason. He leaned against the wall, trying to look as unobtrusive as possible while he waited. Time went by, Fish checking his watch on occasion. After just over five minutes, Fish walked up to the stall, about to interrupt but the door opened. A grinning man stepped out and made for the door.

Fish said, loudly over the music, "John? You there, mate?"

Hart stepped out, simultaneously doing up his trousers. He winked. "Want a turn, Joe?"

Fish rolled his eyes. Hart may have said it was highly taboo on his planet to step between committed couples but that hadn't stopped him from suggesting a threesome with him and Henry… several times. "Duty calls."

"Right," Hart said. He turned all business and headed for the door.

"You really need to learn about safe sex, John," Fish said seriously as the two of them stepped out into the street.

"Fifty first century immunity is a beautiful thing," Hart said, winking.

"I'm serious, mate. You're exposing yourself to diseases that people probably haven't seen for centuries by your time. You've no immunity, no resistance," Fish said as they reached Fish's car.

"Doesn't work like that anymore, Joe. We learned from small pox and the New World," Hart said tapping his chest as he got into the car. "Humans in my time have genetically modified immune systems. When people first started venturing out into space, there was a lot of plague. We didn't have the ability to fight off alien disease. We're an impatient lot. We didn't want to wait for evolution to give us that immunity so we gave it to ourselves. There isn't a disease on this little rock of yours that can take root in me."

"You're kidding?" Fish said.

"Nope!" Hart said with a laugh. "What's that big one from this century?"

"Cancer?" Fish asked.

"No, not that one. It's some sort of acronym," Hart said. His face was scrunched in concentration. He snapped his fingers a few times trying to think. "Fuck… I always was rubbish with the acronym ones…"

"HIV?" Fish supplied.

Hart snapped his fingers and pointed at Fish. "That's it! HIV and AIDS. You could inject that shit straight into my blood and I wouldn't get so much as a runny nose."

"No shit," Fish said with interested.

"Now, alien illnesses are a different story. I came down with Topolese pox right after I joined the Time Agency that had me in the infirmary for a bloody week. I had a nasty bout of Kastesthian fever when I was a kid that left me deaf."

"Deaf? You can hear fine," Fish said as he drove.

"Biological implants," Hart said tapping his ear. "Grown from my own DNA and genetically modified."

No wonder Hart always seemed to have such sharp hearing. Fish shook his head as he drove. It wasn't a long way to where they were headed. Miranda had asked them to meet there rest of the team at the Capitol Shopping centre. It wasn't exactly a long ride for a chat but he'd always been curious about Jack's time and the future. The immortal man was always tight lipped about it, avoiding questions. Granted, Hart wasn't telling him anything that wasn't easily deduced but it was interesting nonetheless. Seeing as Hart was in a talking mood, Fish decided to take advantage of the situation. "I'm surprised people aren't some sort of genetic perfection by your time."

"It's against the law," Hart said, seriously. "Gestation and life threatening genetic disease, hair colour, eye colour and gender are about all you're allowed to fuck around with prenatally and there are heavy restrictions. You have brown eyes and want a blue eyed kid? You have to be tested to prove you have the ability to pass on blue eyes. You want a female child? You better already have a male. The penalty is pretty harsh for doing anything else. The prosecutors are ruthless."

"They'll send you to prison for genetic manipulation?" Fish gasped.

"The parents go to prison. The physicians who perform the procedures are stripped of their licence to practice and barred from healing for life. They go to prison too. What happens to the kid is worse… reproductive sterilisation and black listing. They go on a registry list for life. They're barred from most professions and any medical reproductive intervention," Hart said. He shifted in his seat and fiddled with his seat belt. "There's also a serious social stigma attached to being genetically enhanced."

"Christ," Fish said and then realised something. "How is it your hearing's genetically modified then?"

"The illness made me deaf because of a genetic defect in my hearing. I would've gone deaf on my own by the time I was twenty," Hart said with a shrug. "If they're correcting a problem, the original can be improved upon as long as it's within a standard deviation of the human average."

"You hear like a fucking hawk!" Fish exclaimed.

"A standard deviation of the fifty first century human average," Hart said with a sneer. What he didn't mention was that his conniving father had taken advantage of that small loophole, bending the rule until it almost broke. He'd paid the right amount of money to the right doctor. Hart's hearing had been modified to the very edge of the standard deviation plus the margin of medical error. What he also didn't mention was that he'd long suspected his father had infected him with Kastesthian fever on purpose as an excuse for the genetic engineering. There was no way the man couldn't have known about the genetic hearing defect, there was too much prenatal testing.

"Good to know I'm a fucking caveman," Fish said sarcastically.

"Don't think about it like that," Hart said. He waved out of the car window. "This level of society? It's a big achievement. Not every planet bound species out there has this or wants it for that matter. The big evolutionary changes started when humans broke out into space and mixed with alien species."

"Survival of the fittest," Fish mused. "Darwin'd be pleased."

"Who?"

"Charles Darwin? The man who theorised evolution?" Fish said with disbelief. _How can this man not know who Charles Darwin is?!_

"I vaguely remember the name. There's a lot more history to memorize by my time."

It was a few more minutes before Hart spoke. He nodded towards the steering wheel as he did, "I should probably learn to do that."

"What? Drive?" Fish said, surprised. "You've been skulking about the planet for years. You never learned how to drive?"

Hart shook his head. "Nah, didn't think I was staying for long, did I?" He tapped his wrist strap. "And I've never needed to learn."

"Well, I can teach you," Fish said. He gave into another curiosity. "Why did you stay anyway?"

Hart shrugged and looked out the window.

"Was it Evie?" Fish asked with a sly smile.

"What? By the Twins, no!" Hart said, aghast. He shifted a little in his seat and Fish could tell he'd hit it close to the mark. Fish wasn't blind. He saw the way the two of them acted around each other. Angry barbs and sarcastic eye rolls were constantly tossed between them, like teenagers. One was always constantly trying to irritate or annoy the other. No one else may have noticed because they were too busy hating Hart but Fish could see it clear as day. He knew chemistry when he saw it and the two of them had it and they didn't even realise it. Miranda was constantly calling Jack woefully obtuse but she was just as bad sometimes. Fish thought it was worse because Miranda was thousands of years old. What was it his father used to say? _Growing old's inevitable. The wisdom's optional._

"Why do you call her that anyway?" Hart asked, trying to change the subject.

"She was using a different name when I met her about… Christ, nearly twenty years ago now. I can't think of her as anything else. I tried calling her Miranda at first but I slipped up so much I gave up," Fish replied. The attempt at a subject change wasn't going to side track him. He smirked and asked, "You fancy her?"

"Impossible little minx," Hart said with a snort. "Not worth the trouble. There's easier game out there."

Fish smiled inwardly. The two of them were really clueless. He decided to let the subject drop. He drove into the car park and started looking around for the SUV. He wasn't surprised to find it parked with the front wheel up on the kerb. Fish parked behind the SUV and got out.

"Where is everyone?" Hart asked, looking at his wrist strap. "They got here first."

"Don't know…" Fish craned his neck looking around and then the two men heard what sounded like the popping of gunfire.

"Fuck!" Fish shouted, opening the glove box and reaching for his gun. Hart, his own weapon already drawn, was running towards the shops.

"John! Wait!" Fish yelled.

Hart stopped at the door, giving Fish a glare of impatience but he knew that they'd both get the fourth degree from Jack if they split up. With six members of the team, Jack had started to insist they remain in pairs at all times. Jack preferred one mortal member of the team to be paired with an immortal one but this would have to do.

Fish jogged and caught up to Hart who flung the glass door open and stepped inside, gun drawn. No sooner had the two men moved down the hall than the glass front of the shops exploded and over a dozen humanoids dressed in black tactical gear sprawled onto the tile floors.

"Don't move!" Fish shouted, raising his weapon and advancing slowly.

Hart grabbed Fish by the arm and yanked him out of the way just as one of the beings fired some manner of projectile weapon at them, several shots echoing in the empty building. The two of them ended up pressed against the wall behind a decorative pillar for cover.

"Thanks," Fish said.

"Don't mention it," Hart said.

"Oh, fuck! John, you're hit!" Fish said, looking at Hart's arm. The silk shirt's sleeve was torn and blood was flowing freely.

"Flesh wound," Hart said, peering around the pillar. A few more shots came their way. "You know this evening is turning into a complete cock up. That blow job back at the club was fantastic. They're getting away."

Fish and Hart both dashed after the group who were ignoring them as they sprinted for the nearest exit. Hart fired off a few warning shots, yelling at them in some odd language, but they continued to run.

Fish looked behind him, to see if any of the others were there and saw no one. He took a breath and stopped. One was trailing behind the others. Fish took careful aim and fired off one round. The bullet flew threw the air and landed in the straggler's legs. He stumbled and fell with a screech. One of his comrades went to help but stopped at the sight of Fish and Hart descending. He turned and fled with the others. The injured person was clearly begging not to be abandoned.

"Go and be careful!" Fish said as he bent down to restrain the injured assailant. Hart nodded and bolted for the door.

After he took out some plastic restraints, Fish rolled the injured man onto his belly, securing his wrists behind his back as he cried and flailed. 'Man' was probably a strong word. Fish thought he looked no more than a teenager. Just as he got the restraints tightened, Jack and Ianto turned the corner.

"Fish!" Jack shouted. "We were outside, what happened?"

"John and I got here and heard what sounded like gunfire. We thought you lot were in trouble so we came to help," Fish said. He jerked his head in the appropriate directions. "A dozen plus beings, humanoid, came diving through the shop window. They shot at us and then ran out that door. John's in pursuit."

"This is a good shot, Fish," Ianto said, examining the injury of the bound boy.

"We thought the reading was over on Station Terrace, must've been just inside the building," Jack said. He poked at the boy with his boot. "Hey! Who are you?"

The injured boy only cried out in pain and sobbed. Hart came back through the exit door looking thoroughly put out. "Sorry, they went down Newport Road and I lost them. We need to find them. They're all wearing what looks like tactical gear."

"Jack? Where's Evie? John's been shot," Fish said.

"What?" Jack crossed over to his former partner.

"It's just a flesh would, Jack," Hart said, backing away. He waved Jack off, dismissive of his injuries.

"I want Will to take a look at it anyway," Jack said. "Let's get this one back to the Hub and into interrogation. It's our best lead in finding the rest of them."


	7. Chapter 7

"Some clean clothes for you, Captain," Ianto said, dropping a fresh t-shirt onto the autopsy table next to him.

"Thanks, Eye Candy," Hart said as he sat on the autopsy table.

"It's my job," Ianto said and then turned to leave.

"Tell Jack not to start without me," Hart said called after him.

Ianto turned, and for a moment, it looked to Miranda as if he was about to say something flip. It seems the Welshman thought better of whatever remark was on the tip of his tongue and, instead, joked, "Something I'm used to telling him quite frequently."

Hart laughed and Ianto continued up the autopsy bay stairs.

"Ianto?" he called out and when Ianto turned to look at him. "Thanks, really."

"Of course, Captain," Ianto said. He gave Hart a tight smile and then left the autopsy bay.

Miranda raised an eyebrow. It was the first gesture of friendliness she'd seen from Ianto towards Hart. At first, the whole team had reacted to Hart's presence with extreme negativity. The amount of disharmony alone was a reason for his dismissal and Miranda had brought it up more than once with Jack over the past two weeks. Torchwood was more than a workplace. They were a family. It was one of the reasons they worked so well together. Of course, the addition of another member would disrupt any team's dynamic but Hart's presence was creating all out hostility.

Ianto and Gwen had both refused to speak to Hart unless absolutely necessary and, in Gwen's case, sometimes not even then. Often, Gwen wouldn't so much as look at the man. At first, Jack had treated his former partner in a friendly manner but that had stopped very quickly. Miranda assumed he was hanging back to appease his husband. The two former Time Agents only ever spoke briefly, after dark, when Ianto went about his night routine. Since he had to work closely with Hart, Fish had taken pity and formed a friendship. Hart had latched onto the Australian immediately.

Unfortunately, that friendship had dropped Fish into pariah status along with Hart. Gwen and Ianto were both acting chilly towards the technician. Fish was taking it in positive stride, rising above the petty behaviour. Though Ianto had been acting strangely towards Fish for some time now. Miranda, on the other hand, was ambivalent. She had no personal issue with Hart so she was hanging in the shadows, neither befriending the man nor openly shunning him. She knew it wasn't the best solution. She was second in command here and mediating this sort of problem was her job but there really wasn't anything to mediate. There was no compromise for anyone to reach. Nothing Miranda could say would make a speck of difference. Either Gwen and Ianto would either bury the hatchet or they wouldn't. Though they would probably prefer to bury said hatchet right into Hart's skull.

Ianto's small joke was the first time the Welshman had ever shown Hart anything but scorn. Miranda had assumed that Gwen and Ianto's treatment of Hart hadn't bothered the former Time Agent but there was relief on his face, as if a small burden had rolled off of him. Maybe she'd been remiss in staying out of the conflict but it seemed moot to get involved now that it appeared to be on its way to resolution.

When Hart had begun his work, he'd tossed himself about the place, figuratively speaking. He'd peacocked. He'd postured. He'd put on a bit of a show but after only a few days he'd settled and most of that had stopped. Sure, they still saw some of the psychotic hedonist but its appearances weren't as frequent and were more subdued. She wasn't sure if it was because the posturing wasn't working or because Hart was simply becoming more comfortable in his surroundings. She suspected it was a bit of both.

She'd been suspicious of Hart's motives for accepting the trial period and staying, but now, a genuine enjoyment of the work appeared to be motivating him. Fish said that Hart found it challenging and enjoyable. Not only was he dedicated to his work and doing his work well, he was beginning to prove himself as trustworthy. In truth, she'd expected Hart to disappear in the night but every morning he was at Fish's table, diligently working. Now he'd injured himself protecting one of their own even if it was slightly accidental in nature.

Miranda picked up the scissors from the instrument tray. She cut the sleeve off of his silk shirt and then slit it up to his shoulder, exposing the wound. The bullet had gone through and through Hart's bicep, leaving a clean wound track. After she cleaned away the dried blood, she examined the wound more carefully with the deep tissue scanner. Hart's entire upper arm was turning a mottled purple, large bruises forming. It reminded him of the first night he'd arrived as she injected the anaesthetic around the wounds and started to stitch. This time she waited for the medication to take effect. After she was done stitching, she leaned in close to examine her handiwork.

"This is badly bruised. I'm going to give you something for the pain."

"Not necessary, Dollface. I want to stay sharp for the interrogation," Hart said and hopped off the autopsy table. He reached for the clean t-shirt Ianto had brought him.

"It is necessary, Captain," Miranda insisted as she watched Hart struggle with the t-shirt. "You can barely lift your arm!"

She moved over to him and helped him tug the shirt on, he grunted a little when he moved his injured arm.

"I'm a fast healer," he said, dismissively, as he walked towards the autopsy bay stairs.

"There's no reason for you to be in discomfort," she insisted.

Hart sighed. He hung his head, shaking it a bit. He looked at her and then craned his neck, looking up into the main Hub. Once he was certain they were alone, he descended the stairs and stood opposite her. For the first time, there wasn't a single hint of the psychotic hedonist. She was glimpsing Hart himself. No, not Hart… This wasn't John Hart looking at her. This was someone else. This was the real man. He looked tired and he looked ashamed. It was a raw vulnerability that tugged at her heart. Miranda felt like she was looking into a mirror.

He tilted his head and said, quietly, "There's a purity in pain. Sometimes it's the only pure and clean thing about me."

It was one of the most honest things she'd heard in a long time. She couldn't think of any words of her own so she turned to something Fish had quoted to her once. "'Confession is always weakness. The grave soul keeps its own secrets and takes its own punishment in silence.'"

Hart quirked a half smile at her. "I like that."

She was looking him in the eyes so she didn't notice his right hand twitch, nearly reaching for her. She pushed her finger into his bruised arm and he winced.

"Life sometimes stones us enough on its own," she said, giving him a soft smile. She turned and opened the pharmacy cupboard. She took out some tablets and handed them to him. He dry swallowed them. A small nod was the only thanks he gave as he left the room. When he got to the top of the stairs, he turned, watching her as she cleaned up. He lingered only a second before he continuing on. Just as he disappeared from sight, Miranda looked up, seeing only Hart's boots vanishing around the corner.

Miranda was right, Hart wasn't oblivious to the way people around here were treating him. He'd accepted it because he knew he deserved every bit of it. Gwen and Ianto hated him and they had good reason. When Ianto had shown him that tiniest kindness, Hart was grateful. He'd been trying to make amends and maybe it was finally starting. He looked around the main Hub as he walked through. He was surprised how infectious the spirit of this place was. He stopped for a moment and looked back towards the autopsy bay. _She's growing on you_… the evil voice in Hart's mind snickered at him. He shook it off. _Like a fucking fungus_…

Jack was waiting outside the interrogation room, his head down and his arms crossed over his chest. He'd been watching the young man they'd captured from the shops. He was just a kid, couldn't be more than twenty. Jack already had his suspicions about exactly who these people were. Hart came around the corner looking a little strange.

"You okay?" Jack asked.

"Fine. Let's do this. It'll be like old times, Jackie boy," Hart said.

"I think they're Linearists," Jack said and Hart rolled his eyes.

"Great. I give him three minutes before he tells us who his parents are and threatens us," Hart said with a roll of his eyes. "You want to be the bad cop or the worse cop?"

"He's already squirming, I say less than one," Jack said. Despite himself, he smiled. It was just like old times. "I'll be the bad cop."

"Oh, goody," Hart said and then clapped his hands, rubbing the together. This was his favourite part.

"Ready?" Jack asked.

"Oh, yeah," Hart replied.

Jack opened the door for Hart who bolted through it, rushing at the young man restrained to the chair. Hart grabbed two fistfuls of the kid's shirt and pushed, tipping the chair backwards.

"I don't appreciate getting shot at. It makes me angry," Hart snarled, he reached behind him and drew his gun, pressing it to the kid's temple. "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

The kid was terrified. Jack had to give him points for keeping control of his bladder. Jack had the benefit of the Time Agency and time travel and he still thought this century was a bit backwards. Humans always looked back on past centuries as being ignorant and barbaric. This kid wouldn't realise Hart's aggression wasn't real. Jack knew when time travel was invented. He knew this kid was far enough in the future that to him, this was the equivalent of being stuck in the Spanish Inquisition.

"You can shoot him after we get what we need out of him," Jack said, flatly.

"He's not going to tell us anything. Right? Please. Don't tell us anything. I really want to shoot him," Hart said, grinning.

"Suit yourself, but don't shoot him in here," Jack said with a shrug.

Hart smiled and started to drag the interrogation chair from the room, whistling a tune. "One of the cells?"

"Yeah they've got drains," Jack said.

"Wait! Wait!" the kid screamed.

"What? You want to squeal now?" Hart said drawing his knife and pressing the point into the kid's cheek. It wasn't enough to draw blood but it was enough to scare him… not that the kid needed any more scaring.

"You won't believe me!" he shouted.

"What? What won't we believe?" Hart said digging the point in a little.

"I'm from the future!" the kid blurted. "I can tell you anything you want to know! I swear!"

They smiled. This had been too easy. The two former Time Agents held up their wrists.

"Funny thing kid, so are we," Jack said, tapping the vortex manipulator. "You Linearists know all about avoiding the Time Agency."

The two of them watched the terror on the kid's face with sick satisfaction.

"Nothing new here," Hart said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together again. "Okay, now I get to shoot him."

"Wait! Wait! My Dads! They're on the Heronian senate! You can't!" he shrieked and Hart gave Jack a pointed look.

"Funny thing about going back in time, kiddo, your Daddies aren't here," Hart sneered, circling behind the young man. He leaned, whispering in his ear. "And there's no Heronian senate on twenty first century Earth."

Hart let that information sink in for a few minutes and then tipped the interrogation chair backwards and started to drag it towards the door. He said, gleefully, "Okay, now I get to kill him!"

"No, please! What do you want to know?!" the kid shrieked.

Hart grinned and Jack struggled to maintain his poker face. It had been so easy, it'd nearly taken the fun out of it. Nearly.

"Everything," Hart snarled, putting the chair down. He began flipping the knife in his hands. The kid's eyes widened with fear. Jack reached forward and took the knife out of his hands. He tossed it onto the table and gave Hart a glare.

"Let's start with what year you're from and go from there," Jack said. He tried to keep his face friendly.

The kid immediately latched onto Jack. He blurted, "4683! We were only going back a few centuries!"

Jack raised an eyebrow. Fish had shown him the time travel device strapped to their prisoner. He was shocked. "That piece of trash you rode here? You're lucky you got here in one piece. We should be scraping you into a soup cup."

The kid blanched. "They said it was safe!"

Jack wanted to laugh at the naiveté. "What was your mission?"

"We weren't supposed to come back this far! We weren't to land on Earth!" the kid shouted. "We were going to Maroset Two around 4300! We were just going to drop some smoke grenades at their spring festival!"

"How many of you?" Jack asked.

"Thirteen!" the kid answered, immediately.

"Who are the others with you? Human?"

"I don't know!" he shouted.

"How do we contact them?" Jack asked.

"I don't know! We weren't supposed to get separated! My tele-unit isn't working anymore," the kid said.

Hart grabbed a fistful of the kid's hair and tilted his head side to side. He saw the small ear bud and reached to dig it out.

"Stop! It's a translator! I won't understand you if you take it out!" he shouted.

"Good, we're done here," Hart said as he pocketed it the ear bud.


	8. Chapter 8

The Torchwood team was gathered around the boardroom table in their usual seats. They had become traditional over time. Jack was at the head of the table with Ianto on his right. Everyone, well everyone except probably Hart, knew that Ianto's chair was angled towards Jack so that his dress shoe was touching Jack's boot. Gwen was on Jack's left, her hands folded in her lap. Miranda was at her usual place at the foot of the table with Fish on her left. When Hart joined the team, he had taken the only seat available to him on Miranda's right which was, unfortunately, right next to Gwen. Since Hart's arrival, Gwen had edged her seat as close to Jack's as possible. There was a large assortment of items in the middle of the table. All had been taken off of the kid from the future.

"Fish you want to start us off?" Jack said.

The technician tapped the tablet in front of him, bringing up the display. He sounded weary, his voice rough. It was very late.

"Right, so, the energy reading at the Capitol Shopping Centre wasn't technically a rift spike. Our equipment picked up an increase in rift energy and an accompanying fluctuation brought on by a piece of future technology, specifically time travel technology," Fish said. He rubbed at one of his eyes. "It utilised the rift energy and dropped a group of people… Sorry, thirteen you said, Jack?"

Jack nodded in response.

"Thirteen individuals from the future on our heads. You said you and John had some background for us?"

Hart cleared his throat. He gestured on the table top as he spoke. "By Jack and mine's time, humanity's expanded out into what's called the Great and Bountiful Human Empire. It spans across three separate galaxies, the Milky Way is in the middle. The two other closest galaxies, the Canis Major Dwarf and the Sagittarius Dwarf Sphere, are the satellite regions."

"You're certain is safe to tell us all that?" Fish asked.

Jack and Hart nodded. "It's not like we're telling you anything that's breaking news," Hart said, shrugging. "You already know there are aliens. You've seen humanity break into space. This isn't really anything you couldn't have guessed from a few intuitive leaps."

Jack continued, "Anyway, when time travel was first invented, a lot of people thought it would be the end of existence. Like anything that controversial, it stirred things up and terrorist organisations formed. One used the technology to travel backwards in time. The media dubbed them, 'The Linearists'."

"They targeted the history of key planets in the core of the Empire," Hart said, gesturing with his finger pointed at the table. "They'd choose a smaller city on a significant planet, travel back in time and commit nuisance crimes."

"They travelled back in time to commit nuisance crimes?" Gwen asked, unbelieving. She looked at Jack when she spoke.

"Mostly vandalism. Sometimes they'd do something as big as interrupt utilities," Jack said, shrugging. "This kid says their original plan was to disrupt a planet's spring festival by dropping some smoke bombs."

"That doesn't make any sense. Why use a technology you believe could wipe out the universe?" Miranda asked.

Hart and Jack both shrugged as if they really didn't care about the answer.

"I didn't say it made sense, Will. I said it's what they did," Jack said. "The group was largely composed of young people, teenagers and university age kids. They'd usually travel in groups of between five and ten. A group this large isn't unheard of but I've never heard of them traveling back this far."

"Seems an like an awful lot of people to drop some smoke bombs," Gwen said, mostly to herself.

"I believe the kid, Jack. He said it was a mistake," Hart said. He waved his hand by his ear. "That early technology? It was a fucking mess. They're lucky they made it here alive."

"What sort are we talking about here, Jack? Chavs?" Gwen asked.

Jack shook his head. "Oddly enough we're going to be dealing with the Empire's elite - university age kids who are used to privilege and money."

"So, well educated spoiled brats. Fantastic," Miranda said, rolling her eyes. "What century are they from?"

"This one's from the forty seventh century, it's just before the fad died out."

"Fad?" Fish said and gestured at the equipment on the boardroom table. Not all of it was benign. "This was a fad?"

"The movement was more political than anything else, a lot of talk. There were some extremists, other members of the movement who wanted to cause a temporal paradox, but mostly, it was young kids looking for a way to rebel who had too many opinions and way too much money," Jack said. He gestured at the equipment. "Run through the tech with us, Fish."

"Our little delinquent was well equipped. I've arranged everything into rough groups," Fish said, gesturing at each item in turn. "We have a bunch of items for his own protection. This tactical vest is similar to our time current body armour. It will stop knives and bullets. There is some repelling equipment, a length of rope and some carabiners. There was also a small ear piece that functions as a translation and communication device. This is your basic torch. There are some other tools, a few of those automatically molding adjustable screwdrivers - glad to have more of those - an adjustable spanner and a wire cutter. This is a small collapsable trowel. There were two knives of different sizes and a projectile weapon, that is basically no different from our sidearms."

"Have you gotten ballistics information yet?" Miranda asked.

"They're copper slugs, just like our bullets but of a shape and size that no time current bullets will work in this weapon," Gwen said. "Whatever ammo they have with them is what they're limited to."

"And we think that what they have isn't much. This kid just had the clip that was loaded, nothing else. There was also this," Fish said pointing to a small tin. He wiggled the top off to reveal a white block. He opened another similar looking tin that appeared to be filled something that looked like button batteries. "It's an explosive. Inert right now but combine it with those detonators and you will get a very big boom. This block could destroy the Hub, the Millennium Centre and the Plass."

Gwen whistled. "Wow…"

"Evie?"

Miranda stood up after Fish nodded at her and tugged a small bag towards her, also indicating several items in turn. "There were some other incidentals on our friend. We have some ready meal bars and a canteen of water. There's also a small personal first aid kit, bandages and the like. My examination indicates that he is mostly human. Jack has informed me that may not be the case for the others but that they may be human enough to go unnoticed. Do they have means to return to their own time, Jack?"

"Absolutely. These weren't suicide missions. These kids went back in time, made some mischief, and went home so they could tell everyone," Jack said and then nodded towards Fish. "But…"

Fish flipped open the tactical vest, the inside appeared to be covered in circuitry. "We have their time travel device and John's right. I'm amazed they made it here alive."

"That's a completely daft place to put that!" Gwen said with a shake of her head.

"It's a early model of our vortex manipulators - larger, bulkier and inaccurate," Hart said and then tapped his wrist strap. "With the proper calculations, this is accurate to plus or minus three attoseconds and can carry up to three people, more if you're willing to sacrifice some accuracy and maybe lose your lunch. This thing? I'm guessing it's plus or minus a couple of fucking centuries and one person will be lucky to get to their destination without having to be scraped off the walls."

"Sports car vs golf cart. The worst bit?" Fish said, tapping the vest. "The jump was too much for it. It's burned out. Likely the other devices are fried as well."

"They're all stranded here and they are going to be panicked. They're used to sweeping in, doing what they came here for and then leaving," Jack said, waving at the equipment in front of him. "They probably don't have enough supplies with them."

"They could have one device still working," Miranda said, optimistic.

"If they did, we would've picked up them leaving," Fish said, waving towards the main Hub. "This device is only made to carry one person at a time. It'd be nothing short of a miracle if even one of their devices is functioning. They're fucked."

"This century is far back enough that they're going to be completely lost," Hart said. He waved at the technology in front of them. "They won't understand the current media, the Internet, the social customs, the economy…"

"You seem to be doing pretty well," Fish said to Hart.

Hart looked to Jack for a second and Jack gave him a small nod of permission. Hart said, "When Jack and I were at the Time Agency, this was our territory, Earth's Industrial Revolution through First Contact."

"You're always saying you're rubbish in this century, Vera," Gwen teased. Her tone wasn't playful, it was nasty.

"You might know the American colonies rebelled against England, but that doesn't mean you'd do well dropped into eighteenth century America," Hart said, sarcastically. "There's a difference between knowing history and living it."

"All right everyone, focus," Jack said, cutting off the argument. "These kids are going to stick together. They're not going to be able to pay for anything so they'll be on the street. Fish? First thing in the morning, let's start with the CCTV footage, see if we can't narrow down where these kids ended up. Gwen, the locals are going to be important with this one, these kids are going to get desperate enough to start stealing when their supplies run low. All right everyone, it's two in the morning. They've probably bunkered down for the night so we're going to do the same. I don't want to see anyone back here before ten."


	9. Chapter 9

Jack had told everyone to get some sleep but Miranda felt restless. Since she couldn't shake the feeling, she decided exercise would help and headed to the gym with her sword. She turned, swinging her blade in a high arc as she spun. She landed and rolled. She turned and leapt. She tried to make her moves as graceful as possible. She darted backwards and forwards, using as much of the mat's surface area as she could. The sweat dripped down her face and her breath heaved in her chest. Normally, she did this to music, but since it was so late, she'd opted for silence. She wasn't the only person who lived in the Hub. The only sound was her feet on the mat and metal slicing the air.

"You've got excellent form," a voice said from the doorway.

Miranda turned, raising the blade defensively. It was John Hart. She wiped her brow and said with contempt, "What do you know of such things?"

He turned, highlighting the kitana hanging from his hip. "You think this is just a decoration?"

Miranda let out a scoff. "The sword is an antiquated weapon in this century. I can't imagine it being anything more than a historical hobby in the fifty first."

Hart smirked. He gripped the hilt and the scabbard, holding it parallel to the ground. He made a great show of unsheathing the sword with a smirk on his face then tossed the scabbard down onto the mat. He leaned backwards, widening his stance and holding the sword above his head. After a bow from his shoulders, he turned his palm face up, gesturing with his hand.

"C'mon, Dollface," he said, smugly.

For a minute, she thought about not accepting the challenge. Miranda saw no reason to show off nor wound the Captain's pride but there was skill in the way he was standing. She gave into her curiosity and bowed low. She wondered who would attack first.

"I expect you to hold nothing back," she insisted.

"Likewise!" he shouted and lunged.

She easily parried the blow but her riposte missed. Hart dodged her. He lifted the blade, swinging it downwards. The clang of metal echoed in the empty space as Miranda blocked him. She had to give him a great deal of credit. He lasted a few minutes. That'd be impressive for an immortal of the Game but it was astounding in a mortal, especially one who was injured. His mistake wasn't even amateur. Miranda had simply out manoeuvered him. Hart was laying flat on his back looking up at her. He smiled and winked. He held out his hand so she could help him up. Miranda hesitated and then helped Hart to his feet.

"Where did you learn the sword?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"Picked it up here and there," he said with a shrug. He began examining the edge for damage. He was lying but he knew she wasn't exactly being honest either because the next thing he said was, "Same as you."

Miranda shifted uncomfortably. Jack hadn't told Hart about her or Ianto. Since Gabriel Morris died taking a bullet for her, Miranda refused to hide her immortality from Torchwood team members. Hart was different. Not only did no one trust him with the information, no one exactly expected heroics from him. When he had pulled Fish to safety earlier, it had been looked upon with suspicion. Miranda didn't expect him to stay past his trial period. The more likely scenario would be that Hart vanishing into the night. She wasn't about to trust the secret of the Game to this transient. He didn't know she was immortal and probably assumed she was her age of appearance - her early twenties.

She changed the subject as she examined her own blade, "And where did you pick up that particular sword?"

"Sixteenth century Kyoto," he said, as if he were mentioning the name of the corner market.

"May I?" she asked.

Hart turned and, without warning, tossed the blade at her. Miranda leaned, catching it by the hilt. She swung the sword, cutting the air with it. Miranda's eyes widened. This sword was a piece of master craftsmanship. Swords like this only existed in museums and a few were in the hands of immortals of the Game. Hart wasn't a fool. He knew exactly what he was carrying. She handed the sword back to him with infinite care. He picked up his Napoleonic jacket off the mat.

"You should be far more careful with both of those, Captain," she said, a bit annoyed at the carelessness.

"They're just things, Dollface," he said with a shrug.

"So like a man of the future to think a piece of history is disposable," she said with scorn.

"So like a human of the past, thinking history is _in_disposable," Hart said, with equal scorn. He waved around. With a frank tone, he said, "You lot like to think history can last forever because they like to think they can last forever… their lives or their memory. They're afraid of death or afraid of being forgotten when both are inevitable. You don't strike me as a someone who's afraid of dying."

Miranda didn't answer him. She heard the plastic of the mats crinkle as Hart stepped towards her.

"Why are you afraid of being forgotten?" he asked.

In memory of his honesty earlier, she said softly, "You're mistaken, Captain. I'm afraid of forgetting."

She still wasn't facing him but she heard him bend down and pick up the discarded scabbard. He sheathed the sword, not looking up. Since Hart seemed to be in a chatty mood, Miranda turned and asked, "Can I ask you something, Captain?"

"You just did, Dollface," he said, flatly. He didn't turn around.

"Why are you still here?" she asked.

Hart smirked, thinking he'd caught a bone. "Why? Afraid I'll tell the good Captain about your little bit of sabotage?"

"_Our_ little bit of sabotage," she corrected. She'd caught him red handed about to do what she'd already done. His denial made her angry. "Do you remember what you told Ifan when he asked why you helped Gray exact his revenge?"

"I didn't have a choice," he said. He wasn't repeating his words but said them as if he were explaining himself again.

She snapped her blade into its own scabbard with a clack. He opened his mouth to say something but Miranda cut him off. "Ifan's right. There's always a choice but a decision isn't about a choice. It's about the consequences. You had a choice. Help Gray and live. Refuse Gray and die. Dying wasn't an acceptable consequence for you. You chose to live. It's a choice few here understand, Captain. But I do. The path to survival is rarely pure and noble. You did try to put it right in your own way."

He didn't answer her. He muttered under his breath. "A question of honour…"

Miranda pretended she hadn't heard him since she didn't think he intended her to. "Jack made his choice, Captain. He made the choice with the consequences he could live with. It was the wrong choice and he knows it. One day, Jack may make another wrong choice. He will think his brother can be saved. So, I made a choice and I will accept those consequences. His thoughts will leap in only one direction once Gray is dead and that is towards me. I'm also prepared to accept those consequences."

"For the same reasons I was?" Hart asked, genuinely curious. "He break your heart too?"

She smiled even though she was turned away and Hart couldn't see her. She said, quietly, "No. We broke each other's," and then changed the subject. "You still haven't answered my question, Captain."

He let out a snort and said, "What? This planet was boring. I came here and it stopped being boring. Does there have to be another reason?"

She wanted to roll her eyes at the obvious lie and posturing. She turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Considering your actions with the 'radiation cluster bombs' and Jack's brother? It's advisable. Considering what I've heard from Jack? Absolutely."

He didn't answer her. He just walked out of the room. She pursued him. He was walking away from her as fast as he could without running. Instead of taking the obvious route to his room, Hart stepped up into the main Hub. Miranda continued to follow him. Maybe she should have let it go but something in her wouldn't.

"I asked you a question, Captain," she pressed as he walked towards Jack's office.

Hart shoved the door open and it banged against the wall. _Prying little bitch… _

Miranda cast a nervous look at the closed hatch. The noise was loud enough it had probably woken Ianto. Then again, her presence should have been enough to do that. Down in the gym, she was out of the young immortal's range but now she was well within it. Miranda finally saw where the former Time Agent was headed. Hart opened the bottom drawer of Jack's desk for the hidden whiskey bottle. He didn't bother with a glass.

"Have a drink with me, Dollface," Hart said, waving the bottle at her.

"I'm still waiting for an answer," she repeated.

Hart laughed, drinking down more of the liquor. "What if I told you, it'd already happened? That I'd been here and knew I had to be here."

"Could you tell me why?" she asked.

He laughed again, taking another long swig off the bottle. He was a time traveller that understood reality. Eventually, you encounter a time and a place where you're dead. If you bounced around enough, sometimes you even got to narrow it down to when and where; sometimes even how. The look in everyone's eyes when they'd seen him was practically proof positive. What else could it have been? Miranda wouldn't have been so upset if he'd just gone to the corner shop. They wouldn't have been so surprised to see him. He didn't want to think about it. He'd spent so long trying to avoid his own inevitable demise. He didn't want to admit he was afraid. He wasn't afraid of dying. Now that he thought the moment was finally upon him, he didn't want to admit he was afraid that his life hadn't meant anything. He didn't want to admit that his nihilism wasn't working for him. What had he ever done but take up space? But there was something about her that drew honesty out of him like some poultice pulling poison from a wound.

"Because I die. And maybe I want my life to mean something before I do that."

"You didn't strike me as a man afraid of death," she said, throwing his own words back at him. "And you're a liar. Have you ever said an honest thing in your life that you didn't try to back out of?"

He snickered, pushing aside some of the things on Jack's desk aside. He stepped around to its front and then hopped up so he was sitting on it. He spread his legs and patted the wood between them.

"What do you say, Dollface? How about a send off? You? Me? This sturdy desk? No paralyzing lip gloss. Cross my heart and hope to die… stick a needle in my eye."

Miranda stepped forward, the smell of the liquor increasing. She stepped between Hart's splayed thighs. The welcoming heat coming off of his body was like a furnace. She wasn't going to roll her eyes at him and walk away like the others often did. She was going to do what she suspected no one had ever done before - call him out on his shit. She leaned in, her nose almost touching his.

"You're a liar and a poor one at that. Feel free to drown yourself in Jack's booze, Captain, but you will not be drowning yourself in me. Not now. Not ever. You want to have sex on this desk because it's cheap and low, just like the way you feel now. I am not an affirmation of your self loathing nor am I a whip for the mortification of your flesh," she said, speaking slowly and deliberately. "If you cannot live with the consequences of your choices, then do the honourable thing and fall onto that sword strapped to your hip. Is it a question of honour, Captain? Or is it a question of fear?" She saw his jaw shift. She turned and as she walked away, she said, "Either way. You've chosen to live. So do it and do it properly or don't do it at all."


	10. Chapter 10

Despite the fact Jack had told everyone to come in late, everyone had come in early. After only a few hours of sleep, the entire team was back in the Hub, combing CCTV footage from the area surrounding the Capitol Shopping Centre. Jack admired their dedication. Even Hart himself, who looked to be nursing a bit of a hangover, was at his workstation. He'd said he'd seen the kids run off down Station Terrace and then Newport Road. Fish had found them on a few cameras showing them heading east. His eyes burned a bit from fatigue. He lifted his head as Gwen shouted across the Hub.

"Jack? I just got a report from the local police. A student down at the university says he was jumped and mugged by four men dressed in black on his way to class this morning. They took his rucksack. His wallet, mobile and laptop were inside."

"Not just a normal mugging?" Jack asked, walking across the Hub.

"No, the student kept telling the constables one of the men had horns," Gwen supplied.

"That's them," Jack said. He turned to his technician, "Fish?"

Fish was already a few steps ahead of Jack. While Gwen was telling Jack about the new lead, she'd already sent information to his workstation. It didn't take Fish more than a few seconds to find it, he had been combing through the cameras around the university already.

"I've got it here, Jack," Fish said as he brought up the correct camera.

Jack and Gwen both stood behind him as he played the footage. The unsuspecting student was walking down the street when the four men descended upon him, blitzing him and tearing his rucksack off of him. They all took off in separate directions.

"How much did they get, Gwen?" Jack asked.

"The kid had a smartphone - the service's already been turned off - a laptop and about twenty quid," Gwen replied.

Ianto walked out of Jack's office, his mobile in his hand. He looked up at Jack with concern and said, "Sir? The Tesco Express on City road just reported a robbery. Three armed men in black. They took whatever food and drink they could carry."

Hart raised an eyebrow and said, "They're escalating fast."

"Okay, Gwen? Will? You two head out there and see if there's anything useful for us. Fish keep looking," Jack said.

"Right, Jack," Fish said.

He turned back to his workstation as the two women departed. He continued to work, losing himself in the endless array of video - mostly of people walking about. It was nearly lunch and Gwen and Miranda hadn't returned from the crime scene. Fish's eyes were starting to burn from staring at his computer screen for so long. He stretched his arms up over his head, a few loud cracks and pops coming from his back. _Christ, I'm getting old…_

He stood up and walked towards the Hub kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee. Without paying attention, he took the pot off the warmer and began to pour as he yawned deeply with his eyes shut. The pot was empty. He let out a small groan. He craned his neck looking around for Ianto and found him coming out of Jack's office. He felt a bit of deja vu.

"Hey, Ianto? Do you mind putting on a pot?" Fish asked, holding the empty pot aloft.

"Sure, Fish," Ianto said, straightening his tie. He checked his watch. "Weren't you to meeting Henry for lunch?"

"FUCK!" Fish said as he looked at his own watch. He'd meant to cancel but he'd forgotten. He picked up his mobile and sent a frantic text.

"I'm sure he won't mind," Ianto said as he fixed a fresh pot of coffee.

"He never does," Fish said with a sad smile. His mobile beeped with Henry's response. Fish let out a small laugh. "Looks like I'm out of the dog house, mate. Henry forgot too. He's still at his studio."

Ianto laughed. "Is he still going to London?"

Fish nodded and grimaced. "I bloody hate it when he goes there."

"Could be worse, mate," Ianto said, seriously. "It could be Paris."

"Point," Fish conceded. He was always nervous when Henry travelled to a major city but Paris seemed to be the immortal capital of the world. He waved at the coffee pot, and since he wasn't having lunch with his boyfriend, he decided to return to his work. "Let me know when that's done?"

"I'll bring it over to you," Ianto said, smiling brightly.

"Thanks, Ianto," Fish said as he walked away.

The moment Fish turned and was a safe distance away, Ianto's smile immediately vanished. He sighed deeply. He put his hands flat on the kitchen worktop and leaned over heavily. He didn't know how much longer he could keep doing this.

A few weeks after he and Jack had returned from their honeymoon, an artefact had dropped out of the rift. It had sucked Ianto and the rest of the team into a pocket universe, changing their lives temporarily. Only Ianto retained any memory of the experience. It was a trauma he was still dealing with. This alien artefact had yanked on a thread in his life and unravelled its tapestry, leaving a tangled mess in its wake. Ianto had done a lot of things in that pocket universe that he hadn't been proud of and now that he was back he was still doing things that made him ashamed.

The pocket universe was where Ianto had learned about the existence of Fish's son, David. A child Fish didn't know existed. The very first thing Ianto had done once everything had gone back to normal was to look up David, praying that he was some construct of the artefact. It didn't take much research to find that Olivia Porter, Fish's ex-fiancée, had given birth to a son nearly ten years ago… no father was listed on the birth certificate. His name was David Joseph Porter. Ianto's heart had sank. David was real.

Before everything had gone back to normal, Fish had begged Ianto not to let him forget David but Ianto had yet to say a single word to his friend. He struggled, every day, to look at Fish, to smile and act normal but it was tearing him up. Inside, the rats had returned to his stomach. He felt the betrayal in his bones. He understood, finally and completely, the burden Miranda had taken on when she'd decided to keep his immortality from him. Keeping this secret from Fish was tearing Ianto apart but he had absolutely no idea how to tell him. He kept telling himself, over and over again, that it had been Fish's wish to not forget his son. He told himself, over and over again, that if he were in Fish's place, he would want to be told as well. But, still, he kept silent.

Under the shame of keeping the secret from Fish, there was a small vein of jealousy that made the guilt so much worse. As an immortal of the Game, Ianto was incapable of fathering children but he had, once, wanted some of his own. He wondered if that was something that becoming immortal had taken away from him or if he'd always been sterile. He suspected it was the latter. It was a loss he hadn't quite mourned properly.

The beep of the coffee pot brought him out of his shallow pool of self pity. He fixed the coffee to Fish's taste with plenty of cream and a dash of sugar. He put the mug onto his tray and walked up behind the Australian.

"Here you go, Fish," Ianto said, setting down the mug.

"Thanks, Ianto," Fish said without looking up. Just as he lifted the mug to his lips, Miranda emerged from the hallway that led to the Hub garage. "Where's Gwen?"

"Having a bit of a chat with Andy. She'll be round soon," Miranda said. She smiled at Fish's mug. "Oh, Ifan, is that a fresh pot?"

"Yes, I'll get you some," he said with a strained smile. It was a point of pride for him that the only coffee Miranda enjoyed was his. He went about ordering the team lunch. Gwen hadn't arrived in time to eat and after everyone was fed, she still hadn't returned. The rest of them continued about their jobs. Miranda went to tend to their prisoner's wound. Ianto, Fish and Hart were both combing CCTV footage. After finishing a poorly timed phone call with some politician, Jack came up behind Fish and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Have we got anything yet, Fish?"

"Nothing yet, Jack. I'm nearly up to real time," Fish said, pointing at the time index.

Jack peered down at the screen and Hart tapped him on the shoulder. The two former Time Agents started to speak in low whispers. It was in a language Fish couldn't understand or identify. They'd done that quite a bit since Hart's arrival. Fish assumed they were speaking whatever language they used in the fifty first century. Henry and Miranda often did the same thing though the language they used was from the past, not the future. Fish found the whole thing a bit rude. It was rude enough to chatter on amongst themselves in a language no one else understood but the whispering made it even more so. The two former Time Agents moved to Hart's own workstation, watching the CCTV footage.

"Jack, look, this was twenty minutes ago!" Hart said loudly over his shoulder pointing at the screen. He tilted his head and squinted at the display. "Albany Road? They could still be around here."

Ianto came up behind Jack with the other man's greatcoat in his hands.

"I just got off the phone with Gwen, sir. There's been a robbery reported with shots fired at a pawn shop on Albany road. Four armed and masked men in black. Possible fatalities. She's on her way to the scene now."

Hart and Jack shared a look of alarm.

"The Linearists never killed, Jack. They carefully planned their vandalism acts to avoid harming anyone," Hart said with a shake of his head.

"Grab Will, meet me at the SUV," Jack ordered.

Hart nodded and jogged towards the autopsy bay. Jack allowed Ianto to help him into his coat. Just as Ianto was smoothing the fabric over Jack's shoulders, Jack said, at first to himself, "What's going on here? This makes no sense… Fish? Stay here with Ianto and coordinate for us."

He craned his neck towards Hart and Miranda as they shot up the autopsy bay stairs. "Let's go you two!"

The three of them walked quickly down the hallway towards the Hub garage and Jack drove through the streets of Cardiff at his usual insane pace. Jack parked outside of the police perimeter. They got out of the SUV and approached the tape line. Jack was scanning the area looking for Gwen. She was talking to several witnesses. He caught her eye and nodded for her to continue with what she was doing.

"Since when does Torchwood investigate armed robbery, Harkness?" Kathy Swanson asked as she turned towards them. She crossed her arms over her puffed out chest.

"Oh, you know me, Detective Inspector. I like to keep up with the local knowledge," Jack said, flashing her his thousand watt smile.

"It's Detective _Chief_ Inspector thank you very much. And there's nothing here for you, Captain," Swanson said.

"Well, we'll be the judge of that," Jack said. He yanked the police tape upwards, without invitation, so that Hart and Miranda could duck underneath it. He ignored the scathing look Swanson gave them. Jack and Hart moved off towards the shop and Miranda to the coroner's van.

Swanson objected hotly, "If you lot contaminate my crime scene-"

"Relax, Detective _Chief_ Inspector," Jack interrupted, holding up his hand. "We got this."

Jack shut the shop door and turned to Hart who was leaning over the counter looking around. He pointed up at the camera. "I'll see what I can do with that footage, Jack."

Jack moved off, looking over the rest of the shop. The door opened and Miranda stepped in.

"The clerk died from three gun shot wounds. Two center of mass and one between the eyes, execution style," she said. She walked over to Hart, stepping around the blood on the floor.

"That makes even less sense, Jack," Hart said. He waved around at the bloody room. "Most of those fucking kids couldn't even shoot a gun much less aim one."

"Looking into someone's eyes when you pull the trigger takes a certain sort, Jack," Miranda pointed out.

Jack nodded. "What about the other customer? The one who was already in here?"

"He's on his way to University Hospital. He was shot in the same way. I'm amazed he's even alive. I don't expect him to make it to the A&E. He'll likely die en route, if he hasn't expired already."

"I have the video, you two," Hart called out from behind the counter. He was tapping on his wrist strap and whispering under his breath, "Antiquated rubbish… might as well be made of stone…"

Miranda and Jack moved to stand behind him as Hart played the footage. The three of them watched as the men arrived simultaneously. One queued while the other three moved off to stand in different parts of the small shop. As soon as the clerk went to examine the laptop and mobile, all four of them drew their weapons. The clerk and customer were forced to kneel with their ankles crossed. They were shot at point blank range without hesitation. Once the two men were down, the black clad time travelers emptied the cash register and fled. Miranda raised her eyebrow at the way the men had conducted the robbery and execution. It was almost military in its precision.

"Download that, John and wipe it. I don't want Cardiff's finest finding it," Jack said. He tapped his own wrist strap. "Send a copy of it on to Fish. I want him on it soon as possible."

"This is all wrong, Jack," Hart said as he tapped at his wrist strap. "Why rob this place for the money?"

Jack shook his head. "They know they're stranded. They need to resupply."

Hart shook his head. "They're moving with trained precision. They're a cohesive unit. Forget that this doesn't fit the Linearist M.O. Why kill the clerk and the customer? It doesn't make any sense. They're drawing attention to themselves. They didn't kill anyone at the Tesco."

Miranda leaned forward to tap at the screen. Hart got a good solid whiff of her perfume and backed away from the alluring scent of jasmine and woodsmoke. She said, "These aren't university kids. These people are well trained; military or militia. And they meant to land in this time, here."

"What makes you say that, Will?" Jack asked.

"Can you back that up, Captain?" she asked Hart. She repeated, "Captain?"

"What? Oh sorry," he said, distracted.

She tapped the screen once he'd backed it up to the moment the black masked man opened the register. "They entered the shop after the other customer had finished his transaction. They didn't see the clerk open the register or even use it. They didn't steal money from the Tesco Express, they just grabbed some food and ran. How would they know what the register was for? How would they understand the concept of paper money?"

"If they're Linearists, they're educated. They'll have a basic grasp of economic history but she's got a point about the register, Jack. History's taught in broad strokes. You don't get the fine detail," Hart said. He tapped the screen. "He didn't know how to work it, but he knew to hit buttons on it and he knew that was where the money would be stored. They must've done some research for that."

"The kid back at the Hub is a Linearist," Jack said. "He's admitted to it. He fits the profile."

"A patsy?" Miranda said. "Someone to hide their true objectives?"

"This isn't good. If they're here under the cover of a Linearist threat, it could mean anything. They might not be here by accident. Their real mission is going to be nearly impossible to figure out," Jack said. He scrubbed at his face. "We need to step this up. There's nothing more for us here. Do we need those bodies for the bullets?"

"Not necessary, Jack. The ballistics is going to show that they're unusual bullets, nothing more," she said. "The locals will assume they're just custom work."

"It's actually better for us," Hart pointed out. "They'll be chasing their tails looking for who made them. It'll keep them occupied."

"Let's get back to the Hub, I want to talk to our friend again," Jack said.


	11. Chapter 11

Miranda was leaning against the observation window of the interrogation room watching an exercise in futility. Jack and Hart were both in the room and the kid was terrified. They were wasting their time. _This child knows nothing._ Jack leaned in, banging his fist on the desk and the kid jumped. Hart glanced up at the window, tossing her a wink. She gave him a small smile and swore that, maybe, for a moment, a light blush crossed his cheeks. _Probably the lighting… _

"Has he done the dramatic 'just us, in this room, as long as it takes' bit yet?" Ianto asked handing her a cup of coffee.

"Not yet."

"Pity… Shivers down my spine that," Ianto said with a wry smile.

Miranda moved away from the window. She put the mug down on Jack's desk and plopped into the chair.

"You don't want to watch?" Ianto asked, pointing at the window.

"A fool's errand, Ifan. That boy knows nothing," Miranda said. She put her feet up onto the desk, crossing them at the ankles.

"You're so sure?" Ianto asked. He sat in the chair opposite, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

"Yes," Miranda said. She picked up the kinetic toy from Jack's desk and then tapped her ear piece. "Gwen? Where are we?"

"Nothing yet. I'm working on some geographic profiling to see if we can't narrow the search. I'll keep you updated," Gwen replied. Her voice sounded a bit distant, she was concentrating on something other than what Miranda was asking her.

"Thanks, Gwen. Fish? Where are we with the CCTV?" Miranda asked.

"I hit a dead end, Evie. I lost them on the cameras after the pawn shop robbery but I'm using what little I do have to help Gwen with the geographic profile."

Miranda sighed. They both sounded exhausted. Her own eyes were burning. "Got it, thanks you two. I'll have Ifan bring you both some coffee."

Ianto nodded and pushed himself off the desk. "I'll be ordering dinner shortly. Anything you fancy?"

"No pizza," Miranda said with a smile.

"Right," he said as he left the room to take coffee to Gwen and Fish.

It only took Ianto a few minutes to make the coffee. He fixed it to their preferences and arranged the mugs on his tray. Gwen was standing in front of a large map. Fish was flipping through CCTV footage as Gwen called out locations to him.

"I'm about to order some dinner. Anything either of you fancy?" he asked. He put the mug down next to Fish. He put the other mug into Gwen's outstretched hand.

"Not pizza again, mate," Fish said, accepting the mug gratefully.

Ianto smiled. "Mandy said the same. What are you two doing?"

"Geographic profile," Gwen said. Torchwood had a multitude of technologies at its disposal but for some things, Gwen preferred the old fashioned way. She tapped the paper map in front of her, indicating points in turn. Each one was surrounded by a drawn circle. Ianto thought it looked like some sort of bizarre Venn diagram. "This is where the initial spike was. This is where they mugged the university student. This is the Tesco Express and this… is the pawn shop."

Ianto leaned over her shoulder and said, "Huh… decent sized area."

"Not really. Everything is within walking distance," Gwen said. "It's their comfort zone. They're aliens. They're in a strange place, in a strange time. They're stranded here. They won't understand the scope of our society. They'll want to stick to a small area that they can easily cover on foot. They'll worry about the basics first - food, water, shelter. They got the first two out the way at the Tesco Express. We're focusing on the third… Fish? Are you still looking at the cameras on Salisbury Road?"

"Yeah, nothing so far," Fish said.

"Try City Road, it's a bigger street," Gwen said. "They don't have access to a vehicle. They won't want to waste what little cash they have for public transportation and they won't know how to use the system anyway. Where ever they are has to be in this area."

To Ianto, it sounded like she was mostly speaking to herself. Gwen continued, "They won't want to keep breaking into places, it'll attract attention. So where ever they are, it's probably somewhere deserted… an empty shop… something… Fish? Get the angles that have clearly abandoned shops in them. Anything boarded up or empty. Maybe something that doesn't have too many windows."

"Right, Gwen," Fish said, barely looking up as he took the mug and sipped it. "Cheers, mate."

"What's that?" Ianto asked, curious. Fish had about half a dozen camera angles on his screen, quickly flashing through.

"It's an experimental program. Right now, we don't have anything for facial recognition but a person's face isn't the only thing that's distinctive about them," Fish said. He waved at Gwen and then Ianto. "The way you walk. How you move. The rhythm to your gait and your step. The angle you hold your arms. Sometimes all that's unique to an individual when you add it all up. This program picks up on those little movements and compiles them into a movement profile. It's not as accurate as the facial recognition and the program is still pretty basic, but this is the perfect time to use it."

"That's fantastic, Fish," Ianto said, leaning in. He vaguely remembered Tosh working on something like this.

"I wish I could take credit, but the idea's not mine," Fish said.

He'd spent his years at Torchwood in awe of the genius that was Toshiko Sato. He had made his own changes when he'd joined Torchwood but all his work was built upon her foundation and he knew he could never match her technical genius. Fish was often profoundly sad that he'd never met her. He had broken down in tears one night when he'd accidentally come across a backup of Tosh's farewell recording. Two days later he had made his own and used Tosh's program to link the video to his personnel file. When his file was closed, the video would play the same as hers had. The video had given a face to the name that had built so much of Torchwood's technologies and that was when an idea was born.

Nervously, he tapped an icon on the screen. "Actually, I've a bit of a confession, mate. You see, this program is all Tosh."

The smiling face of Toshiko Sato filled his screen. She lifted her hand and waved. Fish had been toying with the idea of an artificial intelligence interface for the Torchwood mainframe ever since he'd come across Tosh's notes about it. She'd created a basic outline, built upon an alien system that had fallen through the rift. Fish had gladly taken on the challenge. It had taken him years to build the program up to the point that it would function. Once he'd come across Tosh's video, he realised how he could pay proper homage to his predecessor. He used Tosh's image for the interface.

"You are correct, Doctor Fischer," she said formally. Then she turned and looked at Ianto. She waved and said, brightly, "Hi, Ianto!"

Ianto was too surprised to say anything. Gwen, upon hearing the sound of Tosh's voice, stopped what she was doing and turned. The marker in her hand fell to the floor and rolled away.

Fish cleared his throat. Maybe this had been a spectacularly bad idea. "I'm sorry, mate. I used Tosh to-"

"I am Toshiko Sato, version five point four. Interpersonal interface for the Torchwood mainframe," she interrupted and then glared at him. "I can speak for myself you know."

Ianto felt a shiver go up his spine. Gwen stared at the screen, open mouthed and whispered, "Oh my God… Tosh…"

"I created a program that combed through all the old CCTV security footage. It picked up everything… her face, her voice, her mannerisms," Fish said, apologising. "I'm sorry, mate. I shouldn't have done."

Ianto swallowed, his eyes prickling with tears. "She would've been embarrassed but you would've impressed the hell out of her, Fish…"

"Does Jack know about this?" Gwen asked.

"I didn't tell anyone," Fish said. "I'm sorry. I'll get rid of her."

"No!" Gwen and Ianto both shouted simultaneously.

"No! Don't!" Ianto said, grabbing Fish's arm. "I'm not saying she wouldn't have wanted it. I mean, she would've been a bit embarrassed but… it just seems…"

"Right somehow," Gwen finished.

"I didn't mean to offend. I did it in her honour. Everything here is hers. I just built on her foundation." Fish explained, "She's a part of this place, forever. I just wanted to give a face to that."

"Ianto's right," Gwen said, sniffling. "You two would've been quite the pair."

Ianto felt his eyes water. He said, softly, "I'm so sorry, Tosh."

"It's okay. It really is," she said, giving him a smile. She pushed her glasses up on her face. "Fish just needs to figure out a way for me to be able to drink your coffee and I'll be set for eternity."

Fish threw his hands up. He'd just modified the program yesterday to remove the annoying nickname. "Bugger all! She's my bloody program and I can't get her to stop calling me that!"

Ianto and Gwen laughed through the tears in his eyes.

"Now, enough of that. Look, we can catch up another…" Tosh wagged her finger at them but trailed off. Her stern smile vanished and was replaced with alarm. "Incoming Internet based alert… Torchwood hashtag and keyword parameters detected amongst social media uploads… Filtering… Cathays Park. Displaying relevant information."

Images, videos and social media windows flooded Fish's screen. There were smoke bombs going off at Cathays Park. People were running and shouting. There was also several nine, nine, nine calls playing simultaneously.

"Didn't that kid say he was here to drop some smoke bombs?" Gwen asked, alarmed.

"Yes, I'll fetch the others, get the SUV warmed up," Ianto said. Before he'd even finished his sentence, Gwen was on her feet and so was Fish.

Tosh was still speaking. "Sat nav information transferred to the SUV." The mechanical tone vanished and she craned her neck on the screen and called after Ianto, "You know, if you installed one of those remote starters, I could warm it up for you!"

"I'll put it on my to do list," Ianto shouted back, forgetting a bit that he was speaking to a computer.

When he got through the office door, he saw Miranda was back at the interrogation window. Once she saw the look on Ianto's face, she rapped her knuckles on the glass.

"Ifan?"

"There's been an incident at Cathays Park. Fish and Gwen are warming up the SUV," Ianto said. He took Jack's coat from its hanger. "Smoke bombs have gone off…"

He didn't even get to finish his sentence. Miranda sped past him, picking up her sword from Jack's desk as she went. "Tell them to hurry."

Ianto took Jack's gun out of his desk and set it down. He stood there with the coat, waiting. The minute Jack saw Ianto standing there with the coat, he knew something was wrong. He turned and allowed Ianto to slide the coat up onto his shoulders. As he adjusted the sleeves, he asked, "What's happened?

"There's a disturbance in Cathays Park, sir. Several smoke bombs have gone off." Ianto didn't wait. He was putting on his own coat as he walked towards the Hub garage with Jack and Hart on his heels.

"This doesn't make any sense, Jack. They're killing _and_ vandalising?" Hart said, shaking his head.

"It could be a fringe group," Jack said, just as perplexed. He ran out of his office after Ianto.

"I don't remember any of this," Hart muttered as he followed them.


	12. Chapter 12

Jack hopped the kerb on City Hall road and drove the SUV across the grass towards the War Memorial. The scene in the park was bedlam. Smoke bombs had been detonated all over the park and the air was thick with the smoke and confusion. Jack jammed his foot onto the brakes and the SUV skidded to a halt, leaving deep gouges in the grass despite the frozen temperatures.

The entire Torchwood team poured out of the SUV, circling the memorial with their guns raised. The War Memorial had been defaced, the pillars splattered with paint and the columns draped with coloured streamers. Across the top, above the etched Welsh, someone had painted the words 'blaidd drwg'. Jack stood there for a few moments staring at the words, transfixed and ashen. Ianto shook his shoulder and he came back to the present. The whole team scanned through the chaos but there was no sign of the perpetrators. Local police were also just arriving on the scene, trying to clear the park. Even though it was the winter, there were still people. They were running and shouting, panicked. Suddenly, shots rang out and the screaming intensified. Some froze, all trying to identify where the noise had come from. Some fell to the ground, ducking for cover, as more shots flew through the air. They didn't seem to be aimed at anyone, just a tactic to scare and cause chaos. The immortal members of the team didn't care. They scattered, fanning out to protect as many civilians as they could. The mortal team members took cover, searching for the source of the shots. It didn't take them long to locate the black clad terrorists. There were four, using the trees for cover as they shot wildly at the running civilians.

Hart managed to take the first one down with a head shot. Ianto was the second. After securing one of the civilians behind a pillar, he winged one of them and landed another shot center of mass. One of them broke off and ran straight for the front of the government building. Gwen ran forward, firing her weapon only once. She also managed a head shot. He fell forward at the base of the stairs, a metal sphere rolling out of his hand.

"GRENADE!" she shouted. She hesitated only long enough to ensure no one was in the blast radius. Gwen turned and ran as fast as she could. She heard and felt the grenade go off. She was well out of the blast radius but the shockwave knocked her to the grass. The wave of heat from the fireball washed over her and she slammed her eyes shut.

In the confusion following the explosion, the fourth terrorist managed to slowly make his way down the park. He was walking calmly, slowly and that was what set him apart from the others frantically fleeing for their lives. Jack had taken cover behind a tree, facing opposite from the explosion and that was when he saw him. He wanted to pursue but Miranda was standing closer. The immortal woman was standing, staring at the explosion and looking around for anyone who was injured. Jack whistled and she looked up and turned in the direction he was pointing. Once Miranda saw the black clad man, she sprinted. Hart saw her whiz past him and followed to help.

The terrorist had managed to get more than halfway down the park, slipping through the chaos. He had a significant lead. Miranda was running as fast as she could but he'd managed to get across the street, past the police. He was getting away. He'd slipped between some of the buildings and was crossing a car park. He was walking, keeping his head down so he didn't notice Miranda and Hart behind him.

Hart wasn't taking any chances. He drew his gun and fired. The bullet landed in the shoulder, probably just above the tactical vest. The black clad man fell face first onto the car park pavement. Miranda was the first to reach him. He was crying out in pain and holding the wound. It was trickling green blood. She rolled her eyes at the display. Just as she was bending down to restrain him, Hart appeared.

"This is an excellent shot, Captain," she said.

"Careful, Dollface, people might get the wrong idea, you paying me compliments," he said with a playful smile. He was a bit out of breath from his run and hugging his chest. "Bloody cold."

"Breath through your nose. It will warm the air before it gets to your lungs," she said, turning their prisoner over.

The painful display had been a feign. Their perpetrator sat up with a knife in his hand. His arm arced around, burying that knife hilt deep in Miranda's side. She screamed, falling backwards, blood spattering her lips. Hart's gun was still in his hands. He fired. The bullet went straight through the man's throat. He too fell backwards, green blood spurting from the wound as he died. Hart ignored him, kneeling at Miranda's side immediately.

She grabbed for the hilt and Hart stopped her. "Woah! Don't do that, Dollface! It'll be okay! Just stay with me!"

Hart fumbled for the comm unit he never wore. He hated all this antiquated garbage Torchwood used. He couldn't manage to get it into his ear. He threw it, frustrated. "Fuck this!"

He opened his wrist strap and tapped. "JACK! She's hurt bad! Hurry!"

Miranda made another attempt to grab at the knife and Hart tried to stop her. "No, no, no! Don't do that, Dollface! Leave it!"

She coughed and more blood coming up. It sprayed into the air, landing on her face and the ground around her. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. She was drowning in her own blood. Hart had no idea that Miranda was immortal and that she was trying to remove the knife to speed her demise. All he knew was that it was the worst thing she could possibly do. He thought she was incoherent, blindly grasping at what she felt was a source of pain. He hauled her up into his lap. Grabbing her wrists, he crisscrossed her arms over her chest, holding her close. He had no way of helping her. He'd have to wait for the others.

"John…" Her eyes started to slide closed.

"Dollface! Hey! Hey, don't do that! Stay with me!" he shouted at her, shaking her a bit. She opened her eyes. "That's it. Open those honey sweet eyes for me."

He knew she didn't die here. Everything that had brought him here - her love and her passion - hadn't happened yet. She survived this. He knew it. He just needed to be patient. The others would come. They'd get her to hospital. She'd be fine.

"John…" she tried to say more but she coughed, spraying blood again. She had to tell him the truth.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead. He said, "You're going to be fine. Right as rain, I promise. Help's on the way. Hold on, love. It's just a scratch…"

"Liar…" she accused with a weak smile.

"Don't try and talk…" he said, blinking back tears. He shouldn't have underestimated the terrorist. Miranda's eyes began to close again and Hart shook her. "Hey! Hey, Dollface! DOLLFACE! Stay with me!"

Once she'd opened her eyes again, Hart looked up and saw the others. They weren't running. They were walking! What was wrong with them? She was dying! He let go of her wrist and waved, frantically. "HERE! WE'RE HERE!"

The distraction was all Miranda needed. She seized the knife and yanked it from her side.

"NO! NO!" Hart grabbed for the wound, trying to staunch the gush of the blood. He saw her eyes beginning to close again. "You stubborn bitch! Open your eyes!"

She looked up at him.

"You were right. I've never said anything really honest but how can I lie to a dying woman?" He said, speaking as fast as he could. It wasn't fast enough. Her eyes slid closed and her head lolled to the side. He shook her. This time she didn't answer. "Dollface?!"

It was impossible that she died here. Impossible. The doubt crept up over his shoulder, dousing his heart in ice. He felt a lump form in his throat as her whole body relaxed. He held onto her and said, very quietly, "You wanted to know why I stayed? The truth is this Torchwood thing… it makes me want to be a better man… to atone… and… and so do you."

He should have kept that ridiculously antiquated mobile telephone that Ianto had given him. He would've been able to summon an ambulance. He chastised himself for the thought. He hadn't bothered with CPR either. Neither would have mattered. There was no saving her. The tip of the knife had likely pierced her heart. He was amazed she'd lived as long as she had. _It isn't supposed to be this way…_ he thought as he let his fingers run down her cheek. He remembered when he first saw her. The image of her tear streaked face filled with so much love and longing appeared in his mind's eye. He'd dared to hope for that look again without the grief marring the love's purity. He gently kissed her cooling cheek and ran his fingers through her hair. Now that hope was gone and it had wounded him as deeply as any weapon could. The others gathered around them. He cradled her gently for a moment and then lowered her to the icy pavement. He took off his Napoleonic jacket and draped it over her face.

Hart looked up. "I tried… I couldn't… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

Angry and distraught, he turned and stormed off. She'd managed to creep under his skin. His mind didn't even try to think about how that was possible. Now she was gone. They all stared at his retreating back, looking guilty; even Gwen. Jack said something in Gwen's ear and then Fish and then Ianto. Gwen went off to try hold back the local police and collect a body bag from the SUV. Fish and Ianto walked towards Hart. Fish caught up to him first. He was leaning on the bonnet of a random car. Fish put a hand on his arm.

"John… Listen, mate, I know this is hard to hear right now-"

"Joe, if you're going to tell me some twenty first century bollocks about her being in a better place _you can fucking stow it_," Hart barked. He shook his head. He slammed his fists down onto the bonnet of the car, denting it. He turned and shoved Fish. Ianto caught him. "It's a cosmic joke. All of it!"

Hart turned and his fist flew straight into the window of the car, shattering it. How? How could she die here? He'd seen a completely different future!

"John, that's not it-"

"Nothing means anything," he said, punching his fists down on the bonnet again. "She was a beautiful accident of chemicals and evolution. A radiant creature your fucking God created just to live and die on this useless ball of rock!"

Fish hissed, "She's immortal, John."

"All that eternal soul bollocks-"

"That's not what I mean!" Fish said, shaking him. "She can't die, mate."

Hart backed away from the car, his mouth open. "What?"

"She's immortal like Jack. She's going to heal and revive. She'll come back!"

Hart looked at Miranda's body covered with his coat and then at Fish and then at Jack and Ianto. Even Gwen was casting nervous backward looks at the former Time Agent as she walked back towards the park. He could see the guilt on all their faces. He looked from the body to Fish and back again. Then his eyes settled on Jack. The anger at Miranda's 'death' shifted focus. He ran at Jack, shoving him hard. He shouted at Jack in that incomprehensible language. The two of them yelled back and forth, shoving at each other. Finally Hart recoiled back and balled up his fist. Fish grabbed his arm, protecting Jack from the blow. Ianto grabbed him by the shoulders. The two of them dragged him back as he continued to yell at Jack. No one needed to understand what they were saying to know Hart was pissed. He shoved off Ianto and Fish and hissed something at Jack.

"She didn't want you to know," Jack said, in English.

Hart came at him again, shoving him. He gave Hart one last shove and Ianto grabbed him. He dug a finger into a pressure point by Hart's elbow. The pain got the former Time Agent's attention.

"We need to get her out of sight," Ianto hissed into his ear.

"Go work the scene. I'll stay with her. That's an order," Jack said.

"C'mon, mate. She'll be fine in an hour, probably less," Fish said, gently.

Hart shoved off Ianto's grip. He bent down for his coat but thought better of it. Despite the cold, he walked back towards the park in only his stained t-shirt.


	13. Chapter 13

It took nearly half the night for Torchwood to clear the scene. They returned to the Hub with samples of the smoke devices, the streamers and paint, and the terrorists' bodies. Fish set to analyzing everything while Gwen and Ianto worked tirelessly on locating the rest of the group. Jack disappeared into his office with John Hart. He opened his personal safe and dropped some files onto his desk.

"Read those," he said, without turning around.

Hart opened his vortex manipulator and started to tap.

"You know, you should learn to read English better," Jack said, impatient.

"I've learned to speak it haven't I?" Hart snapped. He tapped the pages. "This sort of thing takes a while you know."

Jack did know. It had taken him years to learn English when he'd first landed. Everyone always teased him for not bothering with Welsh but English had been hard enough. People in his time relied on translators the same way people these days relied on calculators. Very few people bothered actually learning another language. He sat patiently waiting for Hart to finish reading the display on his vortex manipulator.

A strange look crept over Hart's face and when he finally closed the strap he couldn't believe what he'd just learned. A whole segment of the population that was immortal? Some daft Game with combat to the death? The universe is big and vast and complicated and ridiculous. Sometimes rare and impossible things happened, so he wasn't surprised the Game existed. Hart was more surprised that no one had ever found out about it. A secret that big kept for that long? Impossible. But he'd seen the evidence with his own eyes. Miranda had died in his arms and now she was in the autopsy bay performing a post-mortem. She should be the one laying on that fucking table not the one working at it!

"How the fuck has no one found out about this?" Hart asked. He shoved the papers back into Jack's direction. "Fucking Agency knew everything about everything."

"Dunno," Jack said, twisted in his chair a bit. "I have some theories but nothing I know for sure. You know how dangerous questions can be."

Hart at least understood that. When you were in the past and tried to figure out how to connect the dots to your own time, you could get yourself into trouble. Hart stood up. He leaned his arm up against the window frame above his head. He bent forward, looking down over the main Hub and shoved his other hand in his pocket.

"It's harder than I thought it'd be," Hart said. He tapped the glass with his finger. "The slow road… living in the past…"

"You expected it to be easy?" Jack asked. He picked up the files and locked them back away in his safe.

"The backwards ideas. The fear. The prejudice. All this antiquated garbage they think is 'technology'… I can handle all that. Them?" Hart used, nodding at the main Hub. He used his arm to push off from the window and he shoved both hands in his pockets. "They're legends."

"They're just people," Jack said, shrugging. He sat back down and starting on his paperwork. There was a rather large pile of things that needed his signature. As was his habit, Jack didn't actually read most of it. He left that to Ianto and Miranda a lot of the time. The only thing he ever really read were the field reports. He picked up his pen and started signing his name.

"He's not what I expected," Hart replied with a small smile.

"Who?" he asked, not looking up.

"Fischer. I like him. He's a good bloke," Hart said. He jerked his head towards the window. "That's the hardest bit."

"What? You think being his friend is hard? Think about how I felt when I hired him," Jack bit back. His comm unit beeped and he tapped it. "Yeah, Yan?… Uhuh… Can't-… but-… No, I wasn't-… Okay… 'Course… Give me two minutes."

"Got you wrapped around his little finger, that one does." Hart let out a chuckle and Jack gave him a nasty look. He turned his voice serious and said, "He's good for you."

"He is," Jack admitted. He still didn't look up, signing another few pieces of paper.

"I'm sorry, you know. About… everything."

At that, he stopped. He didn't put down the pen nor the paper in his hands, but he looked up at his former partner. "I know."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Would it stop you if I said no?" Jack responded with a slight glare.

Hart let out another chuckle. He jerked his head towards the window. Again, he turned his voice serious and asked, "What happened with you and her?"

"The same thing that happened with us," Jack said. He tossed his pen onto the papers in front of him and leaned back in his chair. "We were too alike. We have the same faults."

Without another word, Hart got up and went to leave the room. He'd always thought that Jack was the better of them but he didn't say so.

"Was it all bad? Those five years?" Jack asked.

Hart turned his head, looking down at the bunker's entrance. Miranda's words echoed in his head. _Have you ever said an honest thing in your life that you didn't try to back out of?_ He remembered the end of that five years, when the time loop had finally ended. He and Jack had just finished 'celebrating.' Jack had held him close and told him he loved him. Hart had taken the coward's way out and pretended he'd been asleep. The very next day he'd requested a new partner and that had been that.

He continued to stare down into the bunker as he said, "You convinced me that happily ever after is possible for someone like me. I'm glad you've found yours. Truly, I am."

Before Jack could answer, Hart left without another word. The moment he had stepped out of his office, Jack began fielding calls. Even though it was very late at night, local politicians and law enforcement were frantic. The fiasco at the park was a nightmare. There was no squashing the story. Ianto was doing his best, but for now as far as the media were concerned, it was an act of domestic vandalism. Torchwood had removed all evidence of aliens from the park. After several loud, blood pressure increasing phone calls, Jack stepped over to his team and asked, "Theories. Leads. Anything?"

"I've nothing on the CCTV yet, Jack. I've got the AI looking for just about anything," Fish said, tapping the screen.

"Local police don't have any leads," Gwen said.

Jack heard Miranda walking up the autopsy steps behind him. "Will? Anything useful off the bodies?"

Miranda shook her head. "Nothing pertinent to the case. They had the same gear as the kid downstairs just more of it."

Fish pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head. They were all so tired.

"We regroup, people. Let's all get some sleep," Jack said, sighing. "Bright and early in the morning."

"Henry's got a train to London," Fish said, hesitantly.

"It's fine, Fish. Give Henry my love and I'll see you when you can get here…" Jack's voice trailed off. He pressed his mouth into a thin line. "Tom's in town isn't he?"

Fish nodded, wincing a bit at the mention of his lover's adopted son. A slightly awkward silence descended between the two men. It seems that Fish was privy to some knowledge that Jack was not. It looked for a moment like Jack was going to say something to Fish but thought better of it. He turned away, his hand in Ianto's. The two of them were muttering in low whispers. Ianto was looking at Hart every few sentences. The Welshman shook his head and went to go about taking care of the resident pets and putting the Hub into night mode.

Miranda gave Gwen's shoulder a squeeze before the former PC picked up her things and left. She whispered something in Fish's ear and then turned towards the autopsy bay. She scarcely looked at Hart. Again, Jack had told everyone to get some rest but, like Ianto, Miranda still had things to do. To save Ianto the job, Miranda decided to clean up the autopsy bay herself. She put the bodies away. She left the instruments to soak. She fed Dewi. After eating a few feathers, the niffler ignored his meal. He was sitting on her desk chair, looking up at her. He blinked, tilting his head. The niffler's digestion hadn't been very good since the addition of a stranger to the Hub.

"Do you want to come downstairs tonight?" she asked him.

He jumped off the chair and waddled over to her. He sniffed her ankle and laid down, resting his head on her shoe.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said with a tired smile.

"Never seen one domesticated before," Hart said, descending the stairs. His appearance startled Dewi. The niffler bolted from Miranda to his box under her desk with a howling noise. He put his hands in his pockets, slowly walking towards her.

"I owe you an apology, Captain." She didn't turn around as she spoke.

"No, you don't. I understand why you didn't want me to know… ripples in a pond." He leaned against the autopsy table, crossing his legs at the ankles. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," she said, flatly.

"Liar," he said, teasing a bit.

"I'm tired," she replied, honestly.

He could hear the double meaning. He said as he shifted his weight, "I never understood why your eyes were older than your face."

She didn't answer him, just continued scrubbing at the instruments. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Yes," he said, quietly. "They wear you down; time and life."

"That they do," she said, mostly to herself. She braced herself for the questions she knew were coming. It was always the same ones. People would ask how old she was or how she managed. They'd ask her about history or if she'd known anyone they'd learned about in history classes.

But Hart didn't ask her any of those questions. Instead, he cleared his throat, softly. He asked, as a kindred spirit, "What happened to you?"

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, finally turning. She gripped the edge of the sink, the sudsy water running off her hands down the metal. Did this man have the temerity to ask about her first death?

He didn't flinch away from her tone. "To make you hate yourself…" _too… _

There wasn't a single bit of the psychotic hedonist on his face or in his voice. Once again she was face to face with the true man. He'd asked a direct question of honesty. It was something no one had ever asked her before. She swallowed.

"Don't presume to know me, Captain," she snapped.

"I know you better than you think." Hart waved at the morgue stairs. "That was what needed to be done. We both knew it. We're the same, you and I, Dollface. We do what needs to be done. We just don't like living with it. You were wrong. It's not about fear. It's about atoning."

She turned, dumping the instruments and began to rinse them. His words hit close to a nerve. She'd said a few uncomfortable truths to the former Time Agent last night. _Turn about is fair play_…

"It's not your fault," he said, shrugging. "I get the feeling you're old enough to know that sometimes things just happen." He started to walk towards her. He took each step carefully, like approaching a cornered animal. "You're a realist that life has turned into a predator. It's not wrong to deny your nature."

"You are too familiar, Captain," she said, angry. "You overstep."

"But I'm right," he said, a bit self satisfied. He reached up, as if to run his fingers down her face. He remembered her previous warnings and curled back his fingers, pulling away. "You asked me why I stayed? Because I want to know how you did it. How did you beat back the dark. Is it because you've been doing it for the Twins know how long?"

He was lying. They always say that hearing is the last sense to fade when you die. Miranda knew it was the truth. The whole world had gone dark and she couldn't feel her body anymore, but she'd still heard Hart's voice as if he was whispering down a long tunnel. He had feelings for her. It was completely mental that she returned them. The idea that she could feel something for this man was ludicrous… wasn't it?

"I learned that you can't," she admitted. "The darkness is always there. Light doesn't destroy the darkness, it just makes it go away for a while. Unlike the darkness, light must be created."

"I love it when you get philosophical," he said with a smile.

"You asked."

"I did," he replied. There was an uncomfortable look to his face before the true man vanished and the psychotic hedonist slipped back into place. "What do you say, Dollface? Let there be light?"

"You men of the future…" She let out a scoff. "You know, I lived through the gluttony of Rome. I thought mankind couldn't become any more hedonistic. Then I met Jack. And now I've met you. You fifty first century men. The human race has become soft… decadent… My contemporaries would have filleted you alive."

She turned, checking him with her hip to move him away. She dumped the instruments onto a towel to dry. He narrowed her eyes at him. She'd judged him for his own posturing but she was just as bad. He might flout himself about while she used a stone cold tone and hollow looks but it was all the same. He wasn't going to let her get away with the hypocrisy.

Angry, he grabbed her arm as she passed him. "Don't act like you're better than I am, Dollface. I didn't think I could find someone who hated themself as much as I did." He squeezed her arm harder, giving her a shake. He narrowed his eyes and threw her own words back at her. "Then I met you." He pulled her in, pushing his face into hers. "The difference between us is I don't wallow in it. I don't dress the 'A' up in lace and wear that scarlet letter like a badge of honour. Because it isn't. _I use it_."

Miranda had no idea how this conversation had turned this way. She had no idea why she wasn't removing Hart's liver like she promised. Maybe it was because what he was saying was true. Maybe it was because of the way the blue of his eyes was like an ocean, swallowing her up as the moment stretched between them.

"Night, Dollface." He let go of her arm and backed away.

Miranda let out the breath she had no idea she was holding. As he walked away, she said, "Don't call me that, Captain."

But they both knew her heart wasn't in it.


	14. Chapter 14

Henry grabbed the handle by the car window. He snapped, "I believe you have been watching Captain Harkness drive for too long, Joe."

"I don't want you to miss your train," Fish insisted, taking the corner faster than he should've.

"You're the one who requested I take the earlier departure so you could go into the Hub," he said, annoyed.

"I know how important it is for you to see Tom," Fish said, swerving.

"He's not particularly interested in seeing me when he comes to Britain these days," Henry said, equally annoyed.

Shortly after Ianto and Jack's wedding, Tom began making frequent short visits. At first, Tom had told his father and Fish that he was finally taking advantage of Henry's long standing offer to pay for him to fly anytime to see him. Henry was, of course, overjoyed to have his son visit so often. In fact, he was now seeing more of Tom than he did when they'd lived on the same continent albeit on different coasts. The numerous short trips quickly became suspicious, especially when Tom stopped spending those visits in their guest room. It didn't take Henry long to put two and two together… or rather one and one - Thomas Blount and Alice Carter. Henry had been quite wounded that his son had not only lied to him but had kept his happiness from him.

There'd been some shouting and some harsh words and even some tears but they'd worked it out. Henry still paid for Tom to fly to the UK and Tom spent as much time as he could with Henry and Fish whenever he came to Cardiff, but Alice was the main reason for his visits. It was mostly smoothed over but there were still frequent disagreements and some disappointment all around. Fish sometimes felt in the middle of it all, mediating between his fiancé and his friend.

Fish snickered. "Don't be offended that he's more interested in getting his leg over than seeing his father."

"Thank you for that image, Joe," Henry said, annoyed. "I hope these distractions at work have taken Jack's mind off of the same."

Fish quirked his mouth, remembering Jack's annoyed look when he'd mentioned Henry's trip. "He likes Tom. Certainly better than he liked Alice's ex-husband. Tom's good with Steven."

"Tom certainly hasn't gotten that impression," Henry said, surprised.

"Do you think any father likes the idea of someone dating his daughter? No matter how nice the bloke is?" Fish asked.

"Point," Henry said. He heaved out a sigh. "I believe things have become quite serious. Tom is considering emigrating."

"Really?" Fish said, waiting for a light to change. "He'd be sacrificing his pension wouldn't he?"

"He's able to take his own contribution with him," Henry said, disappointed. "It would likely be enough for him to relocate and live without employment for a short time."

Since Henry would outlive his son, there was no possibility of his wealth passing to Tom. So, Henry considered his money to be Tom's and was more than willing to give Tom any financial assistance he wanted. He may be more than happy to pay for Tom to fly back and forth to see Alice but Fish knew that it was a sore point for Tom. He was a responsible adult who disliked taking money or charity from anyone, especially his own father. He may be accepting the plane tickets but he would never allow Henry to support him after he moved even though Henry would be more than willing to do so.

"I believe his frustration with recent police budget cuts has significantly influenced his decision," Henry said. He shifted a bit. "He has not yet taken any steps but has asked, in passing, if Torchwood could influence the Border Agency."

Fish whistled, low. He had created Jack Harkness out of thin air for Ianto so that he and Jack could legally marry. A few taps on his keyboard is all that it would take to make Tom a full and legal citizen of the UK. Tom didn't know that, obviously, but he knew that the organisation Fish worked for had tremendous pull. It put Fish in a strange situation. Firstly, there were limits to how much he could abuse Torchwood's autonomy and, well, the reason Tom wanted to come to the UK was his boss's daughter.

"He's going to have to talk to Jack about that. What would he do here? Could he work with the police? I could have Gwen-"

"The legal and police system here are quite different. If Tom wished to work for the police here, he would have to start at the beginning," Henry said, disappointed.

Fish winced. "Is there something else he can do here? Private security?"

"He is looking into all avenues," Henry said, looking out his window.

"I can mention something to Gwen," Fish said and Henry shook his head.

"I do not believe Tom wishes Jack to know of his intentions as of yet," Henry said.

"Gwen wouldn't say anything, Henry, if I asked her not to… wait… his intentions?" The pieces slotted together in Fish's mind. Concerned, he asked, "He isn't popping the question this week, is he?"

Henry closed his eyes, inwardly berating himself for the slip.

"Don't you think it's a bit early for that?" Fish said, concerned. He was also a bit hurt that Tom hadn't mentioned something to him. He and Tom were close friends.

"I have already advised Tom of that fact. Their relationship is long distance and complicated. They've not been dating long. They're both divorcees. There's a child involved." Henry shook his head. "My son is quite impulsive; a trait he has inherited from his mother. I strongly advised him to request Jack's permission before asking for Alice's hand."

Fish chuckled a bit. "That's very quaint of you, Henry, but that kind of gesture might go over Jack's head."

He was the last person who should speak up about someone's relationship moving too quickly. He was happy for his… well… stepson would probably be a bit of a stretch since Tom was only a few years younger than him. Then again, he and Henry weren't married so, technically, Tom wasn't his stepson. The thought reminded Fish of something. When he'd gone to visit Henry, he'd thrown the subject of their own marriage into his lover's court. He'd done the proposal before and he'd decided that, this time around, he'd like to be asked. But they'd been living together for two years now and no proposal had come. Fish felt a bit disappointed and then remembered his lover's penchant for sloth.

Whenever Henry wanted to figure out how to say something complicated, the man usually sat in silence for a long time while he figured out what to say. Likely, he was still planning his proposal. Fish knew it would be spectacular. He reached across, taking Henry's hand in his. Just like when Henry was working out what to say, Fish would wait patiently. Not for the first time, he wondered how his life had ended up like this. He was working for a secret alien organisation and sharing his bed and life with another man… and he wouldn't change it for anything. Henry turned to him and they shared a loving smile. He parked the car outside of the railway station and got out to help Henry with his things.

"You said Tom's staying two weeks?" Fish asked.

Henry nodded. "He's investigating employment prospects. Alice is objectionable to leaving Wales but Tom believes he will have more options in London. He does want to investigate more throughly here."

"Does Alice know he wants to relocate?" Fish asked.

Henry nodded again. "She does. I'm unsure of her feelings on the matter. Again, Joe-"

"I won't say anything to Jack." Fish asked, hugging his lover, "You'll ring when you get to London?"

"And as often as I can," Henry replied. "You promise won't work too hard? That you'll rest and eat properly?"

Fish smiled. Henry was always worrying about his diet and his sleeping habits. He buried his face in Henry's neck. Though the likelihood of Fish losing Henry was far lower than Henry losing Fish, Fish still worried about his lover. London was a big city and dangerous for an immortal of the Game. The changes of him facing a challenge were greater. There were a lot of things that scared Joseph Fischer but the only thing that truly brought terror up in his chest was the thought of losing Henry. "Promise… promise me you'll be careful?"

"I promise," Henry replied.

Henry let go of Fish, dragging him in for a deep, long kiss. "I love you, Joe."

"I love you too," he replied. "I'll miss you."

"And I you, love."

Henry bent down, picking up his case. He might dislike Fish's driving habits, but Fish had gotten him here just in time. They shared one last kiss before Henry boarded the train. An elderly woman was trying to get herself up onto the train with her bag. Henry stopped and put down his own things.

"Allow me, ma'am," he said. He politely held out his hand.

"Oh, thank you, young man," she said, brightly. "Such a gentlemen. A rare quality in today's young people."

Henry smiled. This woman had no idea that she was the younger of them. Once she was up on the train, Henry turned for his things to see Fish holding them up. Henry took them from him, bending down to kiss him one more time.

"I'll see you soon," he said, a bit sad.

"I love you," Fish said again.

Henry kissed him again. "I love you too. I'll ring when I get to London."

With regret, Henry turned away to find his seat. Fish was supposed to accompany him on this trip, but as was nearly always the case, Torchwood had changed their plans. He put his luggage into the overhead rack and then sat down. As the train pulled away from the station, Henry leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. He must have dozed off because when the train lurched, his head snapped up. He rubbed at his neck, stiff from the awkward angle. He checked his watch. He had dozed off but not for long. The train was still in Wales. He took out his wallet. Even though he disliked photographs, he still carried some. He dug out a picture a stranger had taken during Tom's last visit to the UK. It was him and Joe along with Tom, Alice and Steven, all standing in front of the Wales Millennium Centre.

"They're lovely," an elderly woman sitting across the aisle from him. It was the same woman he'd helped onto the train.

It took Henry a moment to realise she was speaking to him. "Who?"

"Your family, young man," she said, pointing at the mobile. "Take it from an old woman. Family is what is important in this life."

Henry smiled. "You're quite right."

"Amelia Taylor," the woman said as she held out a gnarled hand.

Henry shook it gently. "Henry Blount. Lovely to make your acquaintance Mrs. Taylor."

"And yours, my dear," she said. She leaned in to get a better look at the picture. "Is the boy yours or your husband's? He has your husband's look. What is it they call what you people do these days? Surrogates?"

Henry's smile broadened at the woman's nosiness. Steven, instead of standing with Tom and Alice, was standing next to Henry. He was surprised a woman of her age though Steven belonged to him and Fish not to Alice and Tom.

"This is my half brother," Henry said, giving the usual lie easily, "and his girlfriend. The boy is hers from a previous marriage."

The woman made a scoffing noise. "Families are so complicated these days. He's a strapping young lad. Your husband is quite handsome," she said, smiling at the picture.

"We're not married," Henry corrected, smiling.

"Well what are you waiting for!" she admonished. "I met my William in 1950, God rest his soul. We were both eighteen. Love at first sight."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Henry said, honestly.

"Don't be, my dear boy. I'll follow him along soon. Fifty long years we had together," she said with a smile. "You should marry that man of yours. The years, they pass in the blink of an eye. You young people never understand that either."

Henry smiled again. "Have you any children, Mrs. Taylor?"

"Oh yes, three daughters," she said. She dug in her purse and produced pictures. "Eight grandchildren."

"They're a lovely family. You are indeed blessed," he said.

He missed the woman's reply. A small commotion up the train aisle caught his attention. He craned his neck to get a look. A woman was walking to the far end of the carriage, away from where Henry was seated. She was holding a bag in her hand, calling after a man who was rapidly walking away from her.

"Sir! You left your bag!" she shouted.

He shook his head, the man was ignoring the woman and continuing on. _Rude_… He thought to himself. The nosy woman next to him was craning her neck as well.

"How rude," she said, echoing Henry's thought.

"Indeed," he said.

Henry leaned into the aisle to get a better look. The woman tapped the man on the shoulder and his hood fell back and Henry blanched. The man was no man at all. He was some sort of creature! His head bald and covered in horns. There were gill like slits all over his neck. _An alien!_

Henry dug for his mobile and activated the camera, glad now that his lover had insisted upon the more modern mobile telephone. He snapped a few pictures and then immediately texted them to Fish. Once the picture had gone through, he sent another text to his lover, describing the strange situation.

Other passengers had noticed the strange man and there were screams and shouts as people started to try to dart out of the train carriage. A man ended up stumbling and falling into Henry's lap and Henry dropped his mobile. He pushed the man off of him and crouched down, feeling on the floor for his mobile and, more importantly, his coat with its concealed sword. The crush of people at his end of the carriage was growing. Henry saw smoke coming from the bag in the creature's hands. _By Heaven!_ _All these people!_

He looked around for his Watcher, Ashley Greenfield, but didn't see her. His heart plummeted with guilt. Ashley may not be in his carriage but she was on this train. Henry looked at the elderly woman again. The strange situation didn't seem to faze her in the slightest. She was sitting in her seat, looking at the pictures in her hand. Henry saw calm on her face. She was sad as she looked at him.

"It looks like I'll be seeing my William sooner than I thought," she said. She was shifting in her seat, trying to block him from harm. "I'm so sorry for you, my dear boy. If you get behind me…"

"We're going to get out of here, Mrs. Taylor," he said, pushing through the people to the window past her.

"Do not concern yourself with me," she said, tugging at his sleeve. "I'm an old woman. I've lived a long life."

"And you will continue to live it," he said, firmly.

Henry elbowed the train window but it was plastic and held firm. He thought of trying for his sword but the crush of people was too much. He'd never get the leverage he needed to smash the window. The other passengers had started to scream. The panicked hoard couldn't escape and the carriage was rapidly filling with smoke. Henry tried to push past them, to get to the alien and his device but the panicked people had trapped him. He was going to die and there was no way to use his death to prevent that of others. Henry stood up next to Mrs. Taylor, trying to shield her from the press of the other people. He heard her praying softly. Henry closed his eyes, drowning out the screams around him. There was no way to ensure he would survive this wreck. If a piece of debris decapitated him, Henry would die permanently. Was there another immortal on the train? Would everything he was scatter on the winds? Fish and Tom appeared in his mind, a memory of the three of the eating dinner one evening. Another memory, holding his arms out as Tom wobbled towards him, taking his first steps. He squeezed his eyes closed at the memory of last night. Fish was laying beneath him, flushed from their love making. _I love you…_ It was the last thing Henry thought as the train heaved upwards, the heat enveloped him and the world went dark.


	15. Chapter 15

No sooner had Fish rounded up the rest of the team to tell the others about Henry's strange text than Ianto said that UNIT had rang. A terrorist bomb had gone off on a train bound for London. It hadn't been difficult for Fish to put the pieces together. His heart had plummeted into his throat and he'd nearly collapsed when Ianto had confirmed that Henry's train and the one derailed were one in the same. Though Henry could withstand normal injury, if something happened, if Henry were decapitated in the wreck… Fish's heart had practically stopped. He was wholly unprepared to face losing Henry.

There was the Game. There were other immortals and challenges but they were few and far between. Fish was a man of science and maths and the maths said that Henry would outlive him with or without death by Torchwood. The idea of life without Henry, of facing the few short remaining years of his life with the gaping hole in his heart had left him paralyzed. Fish felt he'd never known desperation until now.

He'd never been one to ask God or the universe for anything but he closed his eyes tightly in prayer. He'd spent his entire life living as best he could. God and the universe had given him the gift of great intellect. He'd tried to use that gift to make the world a better place with Torchwood even though it meant he would give his life for humanity's future. But then the universe had thrown Henry into his life. His willing sacrifice had to count for something didn't it? He offered up a promise. When his time came, he wouldn't rage against it. He'd walk up to the altar and lay down upon it like a lamb. All he wanted was Henry alive and safe in return.

"Can't we land this thing already?" Fish said, panicked as he gripped the straps holding him into his seat.

UNIT had sent a helicopter for them all and now they were hovering over the wreckage, waiting for their turn to set down. The helicopter landed with a jolt and Fish started undoing his straps and jumped out of the helicopter. His eyes immediately started to water, stinging from the stench of burning plastic and flesh. There were soldiers everywhere. Even though they were still in Wales, UNIT had taken over the entire clean up operation. It was simply too large and public a disaster for Torchwood.

Fish grabbed Miranda's arm. Both of them bent to avoid the helicopter blades. "We need to find him, Evie!"

"I know, Fish. We need to get to the epicenter of the explosion. If he saw the perpetrator, he'll be there," she said and give Fish a little shake. "You need to focus. Please."

He nodded and took a few deep breaths. The second helicopter set down and the rest of the team got out.

"Martha Jones, voice of a nightingale," Jack called out. Normally, he did so with exuberance and affection, but now his tone was subdued. Martha ran to hug the other former companion.

"Miranda!" Martha said, as brightly as she could manage. The two women hadn't seen each other in some time. The reunion was bittersweet.

"Martha, I wish the circumstances were better," Miranda said, giving the UNIT doctor a quick hug.

"Me too," Martha said, crouching low as she herded the Torchwood team away from the makeshift helicopter pad.

"The last of the fires are nearly out. Jack said Henry was on the train?" Martha asked.

"Yes, he's the reason we received our intel that this was an alien attack so quickly," Miranda said, standing up straight now that they were clear of the helicopter. She produced a picture from her phone, the one Henry had sent her and one of Henry himself. Martha had only met Henry once at Jack and Ianto's wedding.

"I don't recognise the species and I haven't seen Henry's name among the injured," Martha said, examining the first two pictures. She started tapping at her tablet. "Perhaps he's among the missing…"

"Whatever lists he's on, I need him removed. All evidence of him being on this train must be completely erased," Miranda insisted.

Normally, the Watchers would be the ones to ensure that there was no trace of an immortal of the Game but this was a unique situation. This act of terrorism involved aliens. UNIT and Torchwood had the area locked. The Watchers have operatives all over the world but they saw no reason to let Torchwood know that or to not let Torchwood do their work for them. Neither fact was something Miranda was privy to.

She produced another picture, a young woman with red streaks dyed into her hair. It was of Henry's Watcher. Both Miranda and Ianto's Watchers had showed concern for their colleague. "I also need to know if a young woman named Ashley Greenfield is on your injured or deceased list."

"Ashley Greenfield you said?" Martha started tapping on her tablet. "She's in grave condition at hospital. I've sent the information to your mobile. I'm sorry. They don't expect her to survive."

Miranda sent up a silent prayer for the young woman. Henry might find her 'bloody intrusive' but he was fond of her. She quickly forwarded the information to Kiernan Davies, her own Watcher. She turned their conversation back to business, bringing up the first photograph again.

"Jack called him an Akkoran," she said. "He was likely killed in the blast."

"The evidence points to more than this single bomber," Martha said as she waved at the Torchwood team. "Do you know which carriage Henry was in? I can get a team to escort you."

"Towards the front of the train. I appreciate the offer of an escort, Martha but I can't let anyone else see him," Miranda said firmly.

"It's not very safe in there or pretty," Martha said. "There's a lot of debris and bodies."

"I'm no strange to carnage. As for danger," Miranda turned to the other immortals. "Ifan? Jack? Let's go."

"I'm not staying here!" Fish exclaimed. He bolted forwards and grabbed Miranda's arm.

Hart and Gwen had protested as well but Fish's objection was louder.

Miranda dragged Fish aside to try to reason with him. "You do not want to see him like this, Fish. I promise you that."

Fish shoved her and snarled, "I love him! So if you think I'm staying out here while he's burning in there you've got another fucking thing coming to you, Evie. Get the fuck out of my way!"

"And he would not want you to endanger yourself by going in there," she said. She grabbed his arms in an iron grip. "He will come back, you won't! Do you think his lordship would ever forgive me if I allowed anything to happen to you?"

Fish shook her off. Miranda thought he was acquiescing. Instead, Fish drew his side arm, pointing it at her head. "You let me through Evie or I swear to fucking God, I will put a fucking bullet right between your fucking eyes and step over your corpse to get to him!"

There was a madness in her friend's eyes. It wasn't an empty threat. Miranda couldn't afford to die such a public death in front of so many. "Fine, but this isn't going to be pretty. Jack? Ifan? Let's go."

The three immortals walked just in front of Fish like some sort of grizzly escort. The four of them made their way to the epicenter. The smell of burning plastic hung in the air and as they approached the carriage they needed. The foul stench of death and burning flesh grew thicker. The smoke stung their eyes and burned their mouths and noses. The ground was muddy, wet from the water used to extinguish the fires.

It was with reluctance the group split up to cover more ground. Jack, Ianto and Miranda all ventured off in different directions. Miranda had informed him that Henry's presence would be diminished if he were still dead. Fish was right next to the twisted carriages. He wanted to ignore the charred bodies but Henry was among them. UNIT had already completed search and rescue operations. They'd given their attention to the living first. Now, they were in salvage mode, cleaning up the wreck and retrieving bodies as they went. The Torchwood group was far ahead of the UNIT engineers. He stamped back his nausea as he let his eyes drift from corpse to corpse.

He slammed his eyes shut when he caught sight of a headless body. He couldn't open his eyes. The dread rose up in him, the grief choking his heart. Had that headless body been wearing Henry's suit? Was the love of his life truly dead? Would he ever feel Henry's touch again? Hear his voice, his laugh? What was his life with Henry in it? How could he go on? Fish felt ice running down the back of his neck. He gripped his belly as his heart began to break in his chest. The monologue began in his head over and over again. He couldn't breath. _No… no…. no…_ He continued to back away, his legs threatening to give out from underneath him when, suddenly, he tripped. He ended up sprawled out on the muddy ground. He opened his eyes to see what he'd tripped over. It was an arm, jutting out from the carriage's ripped open wall… with Henry's watch on it.

"HENRY!" Fish yelled. He dove for the hand, gripping it. Henry was laying half out of the train, his arm outstretched… and he still had his head. There was a look of surprised terror frozen on his face and his eyes stared up into nothing. Fish broke down sobbing, cupping Henry's cold face in his hands. "HELP! Somebody help!"

Miranda skidded to his side and peered in between the jumbled seats and metal.

"Goddess below, he's impaled on his own sword," Miranda said. The sword's hilt was wedged against the seat, jutting up through Henry's middle and into the seat on top of him. She shined her torch, relieved to see that Henry's body seemed to be intact. His legs looked badly burned and severely broken but they were still attached. Missing limbs regenerated but the recovery was excruciatingly slow and painful.

Jack and Ianto arrived seconds later and the three immortals began to try to free Henry from the seats and tangle of other corpses. Eventually they managed to untwist his body from them, dragging it out onto the mud.

"Jesus, Mandy," Ianto said, as he took in the sight. The sword had entered Henry's back, going straight through his belly. The blade was bent just above the cross guard and the hilt was nearly flush against Henry's back. The front of the blade arched to the side.

Miranda grabbed the twisted hilt and nodded. With Ianto and Fish holding Henry's body firmly, she yanked with all her strength and the blade came free. Sobbing, Fish gathered Henry into his arms. Miranda stretched out Henry's legs, pushing the bones back through the flesh. It would help them to heal faster. After he revived, it would be hours before Henry could walk without pain, possibly half the day.

Jack leaned over to her. "How long do you think?"

"Hours at least," she said. "We need to get him out of here while he's still dead."

She taped her comm unit. "Martha? Can you connect me to Colonel Ashline please?"

"Sure Miranda."

Several beeps sounded, indicating a change in channel.

"Colonel Ashline?"

"Doctor Ryan?" the deep Welsh voice answered.

"Yes, sir, this is Doctor Ryan. I have a personal favor to ask of you can you move us to a secure line?"

Miranda waited a few moments and she heard the static blast, characteristic of UNIT's frequency scramblers. "We're secure now, Doctor Ryan."

"Thank you Colonel. Someone who shares my 'abnormality' was aboard the train. I need to remove him before he revives but the site is under investigation. I need you to grant me special dispensation. I would owe you a debt, sir."

"Granted, Doctor Ryan, and don't think I won't collect on that someday," the Colonel said lightly.

"I hope that you will, Colonel, and thank you," she said disconnecting the line and then reactivating her comm unit. "Martha? I need a stretcher and a body bag as soon as possible. Tell Gwen and Hart that they can move in as well. I need to get this area processed."

After Martha answered her, Miranda disconnected her comm unit and crossed over to Ianto and Jack. "I'm going to stay with Fish. You two start looking for the alien's body."

Jack and Ianto moved off as Miranda stood behind Fish who was still cradling Henry's head in his lap. Martha, Gwen and Hart walked up not a few minutes later, a stretcher and Fish's portable kit in Hart's hands and a body bag in Gwen's.

Miranda knelt down and laid a hand on Fish's shoulder. The Australian looked up at her and then at the stretcher and body bag. Swallowing, he stood up and turned away. He couldn't stand to watch this. Hart came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder, handing him his portable kit.

"Thanks, mate," Fish said, scrubbing at his face. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Henry."

"Why would you? It's not your secret to tell," Hart said, confused. He gave Fish's arm a reassuring squeeze before he started for the carriage himself. Fish guessed to look for the alien body. Well, what was left of it.

Fish started gathering various samples, the work allowing him to distance himself from the carnage around him and his dead lover. Normally, Fish would have held onto Henry as he revived but the situation wasn't allowing that right now. Jack and Ianto emerged from the destroyed carriage carrying a body bag between them. Fish saw Ianto stowing the portable camera in his pocket.

"There's definitely some alien pieces in there. There's a head with horns…" Ianto said. "How are we working this, Jack?"

"This is a Torchwood case but for now, we're going to work out of the UNIT command centre and analysis tents," Jack said. He turned to Fish. "Ianto's going to take Henry back to your loft. He can revive at home and you can stay with him."

"This is important, Jack," Fish said.

"It is. Which is why I need you on top of your game, Fish, not wondering whether or not Henry is awake yet," Jack said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "The UNIT chopper will bring you back."

Fish sighed with relief. "Thanks, Jack."

"After he's awake? I want you back here," Jack insisted. He tapped his comm unit and began talking, turning away from Fish back towards the wreckage. He turned back to Fish and said over his shoulder, "Okay, maybe not right after. Make the sex quick though."

Fish blushed furiously as he took out his mobile. There were helicopters flying overhead, UNIT and media. Tom would be worried. Fish took out his mobile and sent a carefully worded text telling Tom that Henry was safe and that he and Alice to stay out of Wales until he or Jack said otherwise.


End file.
